ATTIC OF ASTOUNDING ARTIFACTS

Another Vintage Space Toy Photo

2009-12-10T01:11:00.003-05:00

Many thanks to Attic contributor Karl Tate, who uncovered photographic proof that yes, dressing like a Space Cadet won't always scare off the girls. Especially girls who are cool enough to dress like Space Cadets, too!

Awwww...

It probably helps that the guy dressed to impress, and sports a snazzy Space Scout helmet, by Renwal. The photo is from Life Magazine, and was taken by Robert W. Kelley at what is described as a "Science Fiction Party, Oak Ridge." It's dated 1954, which, incidentally, is as close as we've come to figuring out when the helmet was made. Nice archeology work, Karl!

Here's a photo of mine, which I wrote about -- along with Renwal's wonderful Planet Jet Gun -- here.

Planet Jet Water Pistol & Space Scout Helmet (Renwal, 1954)

2009-07-15T01:55:00.003-04:00

I remember it well: My birthday. A sushi restaurant in the East Village. Two good friends, at the time dating but now married. A present, flat, rectangular, wrapped. A book, clearly. But what kind of book? My friends knew me well, but even so, it could have been a book about anything. I rushed to open it.

Ray Gun, by some guy named Eugene Metcalf. An old looking tin ray gun on the cover. I flipped through a few pages, noting the brightly colored plastic toys. I closed the book, gave my friends a smile, thanked them for such a cool present. We all went back to our sushi.

Only... I didn't. Not really. I was still wandering between the covers of the book, crawling over each ring, curve, fin, and embossed planet. Those photos, only briefly glanced at, had somehow imprinted themselves upon my brain. Clearly my friends really did know me well, better in fact than I knew myself. Up until that moment, I didn't realize that I was a ray gun collector. But oh was I!

Ray Gun has pages and pages of beautiful space guns, but most of them pale next to one of my all-time favorite toys: Renwal's Planet Jet.

Abstract like only a space gun can possibly be, it's a miniature work of art disguised as a toy. Or maybe it's a toy elevated to the level of art.

Nope, I've got it: It's rock-solid, incontrovertible proof that toys are art.

My favorite part of the Planet Jet is the rocket on its spine, which zips forward with every pull of the trigger. The gun fires water, which is stored in the bulbous barrel. It also makes a clicking noise, because clicking noises are cool. Don't ask me why, but they are.

So what's up with the helmet? C'mon, I hear you asking about it. It's a strange one, right? All those open spaces and ribs and that funky antenna. It's called the Space Scout helmet, and while it wasn't specifically packaged with the Planet Jet, the two share a color scheme that pretty much demands that they be displayed together. Renwal's designers, renowned for their skills, were clearly firing on all cylinders when they came up with these two toys.

Both the Space Scout helmet and the Planet Jet came in a few different color variations. The helmet's are pretty straight forward -- both versions feature a yellow body, but the "ear muff" and antenna colors are reversed. Neither is more common than the other; I owned both at one point, but sold one of them off to a good friend. I kept this one because it more closely matches the Planet Jet's color scheme.

The gun came in three different variations: The yellow is most common, followed by a blue one with a yellow tip and trigger, and a red rocket; and a red one with a blue tip and trigger, and a yellow rocket. I'm honestly not certain which is rarer, the blue or the red. I've seen both on eBay, I've seen a couple of each in people's collections. Suffice it to say, they're both extremely difficult to find.

The Planet Jet was the first high-end gun to enter my collection. I've actually owned two of them: The first was missing the little fins coming off the front part of the barrel. It's a common flaw in the toy, and doesn't really take away from its appearance. Considering how scarce a gun it is, many collectors -- myself included -- don't worry too much about it. Besides, that particular gun was featured in the fantastic book Ray Gun!, which is just the kind of provenance I like.

Until, of course, a mint one comes along. Which, in my case, is exactly what happened. The same ray-gun dealer (who happens to be a good friend of mine) snagged the one photographed for this blog and offered it to me. I jumped at the opportunity. To help pay for it, I sold my first one to yet another good friend (who has since turned into one hell of a ray-gun collector himself).

The Planet Jet also stars in one of the most frustrating experiences I've had as a collector. A blue one appeared on eBay with its very rare -- we're talking only two or three known to exist -- display card. The seller was the retail wing of a very prominent auction house, so even though the photos only showed one side of the gun, I wasn't too worried. The description was very forthright in mentioning two missing fins (see?) and some scrapes and scuffs, so I figured I knew exactly what I'd be getting if I won the toy. I placed a bid and ended up taking it for just under what the gun would be worth by itself. Talk about a major victory!

Then the gun arrived. Seems I should have asked for a couple extra photos; the other side of the Planet Jet looked like a nail had been driven through the plastic! This was no small scratch, and I was amazed that such a reputable auction house would neglect to mention it in the description. Still, I wasn't feeling too bad because I had that rare card, which was worth more than the gun. For the money, I was still way ahead of the game.

Except, of course, the card was a reproduction. A bad one. I won't go into the hows and whys of identifying reproduction packaging, but trust me, a blind man could have picked this out.

Needless to say, I was livid. I called up the auction house, explained the situation to them, and was relieved when they immediately offered a full refund. But to this day, I'm staggered that they made such a mistake in the first place. (It's interesting to note that, a week or two after I returned the toy, it popped up on eBay again. This time, both sides were photographed. The description of the card, however, only included a small amendment: "It's possible that the card is a reproduction." Possible?)

Anyway, ain't none of us immune to making mistakes in this hobby. Mine was not asking for more photos. Live, learn, move on to the next toy. But at the same time, don't forget to enjoy the ones you've already got!

Rocket Jet Space Gun (U.S. Plastics, 1953); Space Gun (Plast-Trix, 1950s)

2009-12-03T00:41:00.004-05:00

It's been a while since I've written about ray guns, so today I'm featuring two. Talk about... wait for it... bang for your buck! (That pun's for you, Andy!)

I really love these little guns. They're simple toys, and do what you expect a squirt gun to do: squirt water. Bu their looks -- now that's something special! The smooth, metallic finish looks nearly liquid in the right light, like the toy was made out of mercury or something. Pretty darn striking.

The Rocket Jet has a few variations. This one's all silver, but the toy's also often found with a bright, orange trigger. The tip, which is concave like the front of an old-school jet engine, is also sometimes orange. There's another version out there with a translucent red trigger. However, I've got to say, the pure silver version's my favorite.

The trigger guard is often missing on the Rocket Jet. It's usually a clean break, and you often can't tell anything was supposed to be there.

The other gun, which, as far as I know, has no special name, is a little less common than the Rocket Jet. Honestly, I don't know a whole lot about it. I'm going to assume there are variations out there, but I couldn't tell you what they look like.

Those swoopy looking marks on the gun -- under the back fin, under the front of the decorative side piece -- are actually part of the plastic. This "marbling" is common in metallic plastic, and many collectors (myself included) look for it specifically.

Regardless of my feelings about the all-silver Rocket Jet, I really love the red trigger and stopper on this gun. The colors pop like fireworks.

Like I said, these are your standard water pistols: fill 'em up and piss off the cat. It's hard to tell in the photos, but the tip of the un-named gun is a white, hexagonal piece of plastic. Many, many water pistols from the 1950s had these types of tips, and they're a surefire way to tell whether a gun is modern or not. In most cases, this tip will be brass colored (or, actually made from brass). Again, a great way to ID an older water pistol.

U.S. Plastics used an incredibly thin material when making the Rocket Jet. If you shine a light through it, you can see the water pistol mechanism.

U.S. Plastics, who mad the Rocket Jet, also produced a number of Space Patrol ray guns. I don't know much about Plas-Trix, but they've got a pretty funky name and the company was based out of Brooklyn, NY, so they've gotta be at least kind of cool, right? Right.

I was actually pretty dismissive of water pistols when I first began collecting. There are so many of the translucent, plastic ones floating around, and it seemed like most were produced in Hong Kong during the latter half of the Twentieth century. Heck, I grew up with the things. They're still produced today! Pshaw!

But then I started to give them a closer look, and I realized I was being a kind of dumb. Many of the greatest plastic ray guns from the 1950s and early Sixties happened to be water pistols, and by ignoring them I was denying myself some amazing additions to my collection. So I hired a thug to knock some sense into me. Too bad I didn't know that his cough syrup addiction made him meaner than your average roustabout, because that beating went on a little longer than I'd have liked. But it must have worked, because before I could say, "Hey, I've still got one tooth left!" I was logged into eBay and bidding on water pistols. I haven't looked back since. (Mostly because I can't really turn my head too far in either direction anymore.)

So let my pain be a lesson for you: Don't get all snooty about your collection, don't limit yourself, and don't hire a thug with a wicked addiction to cough syrup.

Space Toys On TV: French Edition!

2009-11-29T01:23:00.004-05:00

My girlfriend, who watches a lot of French television, was nice enough to tell me about a program called Tous a la Brocante! on the channel TV 5 Monde. The program focuses on collecting, and takes viewers to flea markets, collectors' homes, auctions, and various other salient locales.

Of course, not speaking French myself, I've never cared too much about the program. Until, that is, my girlfriend showed me the opening credits. To my astonishment, they feature no fewer than five robots. And not just some modern toys -- Tous a la Brocante! prominently shows off Chief Robot Man, Robert the Robot, Ranger Robot, Door Robot, and Tulip Robot. While the first two have been reproduced, the latter are only available as antiques. None of them are the types of toys the average Joe is likely to know about -- seeing them on TV made my jaw drop.

Anyway, if you'd like to check them out for yourself, visit www.dailymotion.com/video/x3r739_tous-a-la-brocante_music. The opening is only about 30 seconds long -- the robots appear at around the 18 second mark.

X-2 Rocket (Masudaya, 1950s)

2009-11-27T00:25:00.005-05:00

Few objects represent mid-century futurism like the cigar shaped rocket.

"General, may I present... the X-2. This is the one that's gonna get us to Mars!"

Oddly enough, I only recently added one to my collection: The X-2. It's common, it's relatively inexpensive, it's hardly the fanciest ship in the space port. But I happen to think it perfectly captures everything I'm looking for in one of these rockets, so on the shelf it went!

Those red slots near the fins would have glowed when the toy sparked.

Like most of the toy rockets produced in the 1950s, the X-2 is a fairly basic toy, with a simple friction mechanism to provide locomotion and a sparking action. But it's hard to resist the iconic design, the whimsical lithography, those kickin' fins. Let's face it, this is how a rocket is supposed to look.

Of course, I only have one, and it's hard to make one of anything stand out on a display shelf. So I decided to jazz it up a bit with a custom made display stand designed to look like a burst of flame. I used Super Sculpey with a tin foil core, paint, and cotton balls. Fairly simple, and a little rough, but all in all I'm happy with it as a first effort. If I'm ever feeling bored, I might have another go at it. I also think I might rig up some sort of launch pad, maybe dress it up with a few really small-scale figures, cars, etc. Or would that be a little too crazy?

3... 2... 1... Blast off!

I know a couple collectors with incredible rocket collections. There are many different examples out there, and some are as difficult to find -- and as expensive -- as the rarest robots. That's why it's taken me so long to add even one to my shelves. Robots remain my first love, and I've been hesitant to divert the necessary funds required to support yet another habit. But one rocket can't hurt, right?

Right?

Ah, crap. I'm in trouble, aren't I?

Amazing what some trick lighting can do, right? No Photoshop here, folks!

2010 Ray Gun Calendar!

2009-11-23T01:37:00.007-05:00

In a shameless act of self promotion, I'd like to announce that the 2010 edition of the Atomic Armory Ray Gun calendar is available now for the low, low price of ~~$1.6 million~~ $16.99!

This year's edition features 13 classic ray guns and all 12 months -- yes, even April! Printed on glossy, heavy card stock and spiral-bound for your convenience, it's both handy and stylish, perfect for the Space Cadet that knows where he wants to be, but needs to put a big red X on the day that he needs to be there!

And because it's made by Futurious Press -- a wholly owned subsidiary of Futurious Industries -- you know it's the best quality that money and the lives of many lab technicians can buy!

Available this nanosecond from Lulu.com.

Remember, 2010 won't last forever so order yours today! And don't forget to tell a friend!

Okay, all joking aside: The calendar is for real and it really is available now. Last year's came out mere moments before 2009, so I'm proud that the 2010 edition is on sale not only in time for Christmas, but also in time for shopping's extreme sporting event, Black Friday.

For those who are curious, Futurious Industries was started by myself and Karl Tate to produce various artistic and commercial products over the next couple years. The calendars are first; we've got some really cool ideas percolating on the back burners. You can rest assured that I'll let you know when they're ready to explode.

Ranger Robot (Daiya, 1965)

2009-11-21T00:30:00.000-05:00

And here it is, the mighty Ranger Robot.

I've already recounted -- in my typically breathless, overwrought fashion -- the story of how I won this toy at the recent Morphy Auction. So there's no need to go into it again. Instead, I'm going to wax rhapsodic on the toy's design, its functionality, and discuss why I completely love this robot.

In action, Ranger walks forward on shuffling legs while a multi-colored light rotates under the dome on its head. Every few steps he pauses, lets out the kind of screeching of noise that guaranteed parental rage, raises and lowers his arms, and blows smoke. Ranger's one of the few 'bots from the Fifties and Sixties to do so; the appropriately named Smoking Spaceman was another, and probably the most famous.

So many of these vintage robots were built on the designs of their predecessors, and you'll often see bits and pieces from one toy show up in others; sometimes they're used in the same manner, sometimes they're repurposed and turned into a different body part or technological wing-ding. Don't get me wrong, most of the time the toy engineers added enough new elements that the final product was something new and full of its own unique charm. But still, as a collector, it's hard not to notice some repetition here and there.

Check out the translucent, neon battery box!

That's not an issue with the Ranger Robot, though. It doesn't look like any of the toys that preceded it, and it never really inspired any of the toys that followed. First, of course, there's the crystal clear outer shell. Plastic became pretty common in the middle- to late Sixties, but for the most part, it was used as a cheap, easy-to-manufacture alternative to tin. In the case of Ranger Robot, though, it's a design decision, pure and simple. Some toy maker got it in his head that it'd be completely cool to make a robot with a see-through body.

Of course, that toy maker was correct. See-through bodies are freakin' awesome.

Many tin robots have gears lithographed on their bodies. However, the Ranger Robot's clear shell allows it to show off the actual gear box that drives the arms and legs; the bellows unit in the back of the head that pushes the smoke out from the robot's mouth; the rotating light that bounces colors around inside the head. Everything's on display.

The engine is on the bottom of the gear box. You can just make out the wires leading up to the light in the toy's head, as well as the smoke mechanism.

The wide, yellow piece inside the head pushes forward on the white, translucent bellows to make the toy blow smoke. The longer yellow peg with the circular tip is the on/off switch.

Since the transparent body doesn't allow for any litho (beyond some simple, internal tin panels colored yellow and red), designers instead took advantage of the material's ability to capture and disort light by sculpting scallops and ridges into the various plastic parts. Who needs ink when photons can create a shifting, ever-changing look?

The legs are connected to the motor by the red, tin struts that run inside the front and back of the leg assembly. This hollow construction allows light to shine through the sides of the legs.

One of the charms of vintage toy robots comes from how much humanity they convey with their expression-filled faces. But Ranger Robot has a minimalist quality to it; it looks kind of like a cheekily designed computer interface for a Sixties science fiction flick. There'd definitely a coldness to the robot that flies in the face of typical toy design. Which, of course, is one of the things I like so much about it.

Both the ears and eyes are made of a softer, rubber-like plastic.

Ranger Robot is definitely an uncommon toy, especially in this condition. The plastic is incredibly fragile, and more often than not, the toy is found with a fine web of cracks running up and down its body. It's so common, in fact, that most collectors accept at least a little bit -- if only until they can manage to find a nicer one (however long that may take). The ears are also susceptible to droop -- it has to do with the way the rubber-like plastic interacts with both the glue and the clear plastic of the head. In fact, I've never seen this toy without at least a little bit of droop to the ears, so don't freak out too much if all the ones you find have the same problem. Finally, in some cases, the clear plastic yellows over time. Obviously, with so many common ailments, I was pretty thrilled to find one in such great shape. Well worth the few extra bucks I paid fror it at auction!

In the end, Ranger Robot is almost as much a sculpture as it is a toy, an artistic expression of the future that happens to have immense play value, too!

Antique Trader Magazine Article On Vintage Robots

2009-11-20T12:07:00.001-05:00

Joe Knedlhans brought this article on vintage space toys, printed in this month's Antique Trader Magazine, to the attention of the Alphadrome community. I'm sharing it with all of you. It's written by Justin Moen, and presents an introductory overview of tin robots from the Forties, Fifties, and Sixties. A nice, quick read.

The Morphy Auction: After the Mayhem

2009-11-17T15:40:00.002-05:00

Saturday, 6 p.m.
I was tired and, truth be told, more than half-mad. Eight hours of an auctioneer's constant patter was taking its toll. His voice was as mercilessly loud -- and as completely inescapable -- as a serial killer's chain saw. But I wasn't going anywhere, not now. Not after everything I'd sacrificed to get this far -- the deals I'd let slide, the toys I'd let go, the smaller battles I'd forfeited in order to win the war. No, I was in too deep, stuck in the mire of my own stubbornness.

And then, after nearly 500 lots, my waiting ended.

"Lot 1275. Let's start the bidding at-" I didn't wait to hear the number, I just shot my hand into the air. The piece of paper with my bidder number on it was crumpled in my fist.

A nod from the auctioneer, and a call for a higher bid. Someone else's hand went up. Then an online bidder bumped the price even more. I raised my hand; the guy online followed right on my heals. I bid again, and smiled as my online competition dropped out. Unfortunately, he was quickly replaced by someone sitting a few rows behind me.

To hell with this, I thought. I raised my bidder sheet and this time I kept it up. The other guy bid, my sheet stayed high. His move. He upped the price; my hand never wavered. Back and forth, the price climbing, my arm a steel beam, never bowing, never faltering. I had tunnel vision, the world around me shimmered and disappeared, all I could see was the toy. The bids kept climbing, and I began to wonder just how far I could go before oblivion dragged me down into her sweet, sweet embrace...

Friday, 8 a.m.
The road was clear as my friends and I left Manhattan in our rented Ford S.U.V. and headed south to Adamstown, PA, for the Morphy Auctions sale of the Marc Solondz toy collection. The mood in the car was light, our excitement levels high. Two full days of vintage toys, 1500 lots in all, ranging from tin robots, space toys, and ray guns to Japanese vinyl and die-cast character pieces. The collection was full of rare variations, uncommon boxes, and unusual finds. It was unheralded, and represented more than 30 years of toy buying by a man with a keen eye for quality.

Besides attending the auction, we planned on hanging out at the Toy Robot Museum, seeing some friends, and generally geeking out over our favorite subject: Vintage space toys and robots.

In the navigator's seat was Karl Tate, a contributor to the Attic. Steve Jaspen, who appeared in the Attic's first Top-Shelf Titans interview, chilled in the back. Discussion centered on the amount of toys flooding the scene in the last month, as well as the downward trend in pricing. We talked about the toys in the auction that interested us most, calculating the odds that we'd actually take something home while also figuring out what we'd do if we came up short. Auctions are tricky business, and it pays to have a Plan B.

Me, I was tied up over two toys: the Moon Robot (a.k.a. Ribbon Robby), and a rare little number called Ranger Robot. Both are tough finds, but beyond that, they couldn't be more different. The Moon Robot is inspired by Forbidden Planet's Robby the Robot, and features three, spiraling metal ribbons under its dome that spin as the toys walks. It's an understated 'bot, but its subtle design gives it a lot of impact. I've wanted one for a long time, and I was pretty certain I could afford it.

Moon Robot. Note the pink tinted dome and the revolving ribbons of lithoed tin.

The Ranger Robot, on the other hand, is all flash and sizzle. Its mechanized guts are sheathed in a clear plastic body, and it features an array of lights, noise-makers, and even a smoke-blower -- all of which remain visible. The toy isn't based on any previous design, and it never inspired any imitators. It's a unique, stand-out addition to any collection -- but one that would probably cost me a few bucks more.

Ranger Robot. One of the few toys that let you see the inner mechanism.

Frankly, I had no idea which I wanted more, and I was driving myself nuts turning the question over in my mind. My plan, formulated as I drove down the New Jersey Turnpike towards PA, was to check them out up close, hold them, give them a good once over, and hope I'd feel some sort of emotional tug in one direction or the other.

Friday, 11 a.m.
Pulling into Adamstown, we decided to head directly over to Morphy's. The auction house is located just off route 222, inside a nondescript brown building. I wasn't sure what sort of action we'd find, and couldn't decide if the parking lot was half full or half empty. Today's auction featured the die-cast and vinyl toys, and I wondered what kind of crowd it'd attract. There wasn't anything I wanted, of course, but curiosity and a deep love for pretty much all toys compelled my friends and I to check it out. Besides, it's always a good idea to scope out the auction house beforehand -- find out how the auctioneers operate, investigate the place's layout, that sort of thing.

Once inside, I headed right over to the cases of robots. They'd been cleaned up and re-arranged since I first saw them months earlier during a preview weekend, and the effect was impressive.

A minty example of the Space Commando. The helmet is usually cracked, if not missing altogether.

One of my all time favorite space tanks. The litho's just amazing, with a lot of great details.

An uncommon, original Tetsujin 28 toy. Love that box.

I quickly found the Moon and Ranger Robots -- conveniently located only a few toys away from each other -- and asked an employee to take them out so I could inspect them closer. See, that's one of the nice things about auctions: They're like museums, but you're allowed to handle all the merchandise. It's an incredible opportunity to ~~fondle~~ examine some really rare toys, stuff you'd never likely see at any other time.

Sadly, my plan failed: giving them a close look only made me want each robot more. I put them back on their shelves with a sigh, figuring that maybe I'd just go for whichever came up first. That'd be the Moon Robot, leaving the Ranger Robot as my Plan B. But somehow, that didn't feel right. I shook my head and went looking for my friends.

I soon ran into a long-time, high-end collector named Perry Mahoney. He also runs a store called, appropriately enough, Perry's Toy Exchange. He was there with his friend, Glen, and the two were picking over the shelves of toys like crime scene investigators looking for clues to a murder. I asked him if anything interested him. "I don't know," he replied. "I think I have everything already!" Apparently, he was hoping to stumble on some rare variations. If nothing else, he figured he'd pick up some toys for resale later on. A good plan.

A small group of robots and astronauts.

Mr. Atomic, with the Moon Robot right behind him. Two fantastic toys!

Tremendous Mike. A rare toy that was also available in grey.

Karl, Steve, and I spent a couple hours checking out the rest of the cases before deciding we'd had our fill -- time for the Toy Robot Museum. Located about five minutes north of Morphy's, it's run by a good friend of ours named Joe Knedlhans. Besides being possibly the only museum of its kind, with more than 2000 robots on display, it's also the unofficial club house for robot collectors whenever they're in town. (I've written about it here and here, and have posted a video profile here.)

Joe was his usual, jovial self, and soon after arriving I found myself wandering around the museum with a beer in my hand and stars in my eyes. It wasn't long before some other collectors showed up: Phil, who owns one of the nicest Buck Rogers collections I've ever seen; Mark, a guy who not only owns some amazing toys but also builds his own; and Charlie, who's built an impressive collection that focuses on vintage space toys and robots by a company called Horikawa.

Soon after that, we were joined by the man I think of as the original toy robot collector: David Kirk. David, who's also a successful artist and the author of the Miss Spider and Nova series of children's books, began actively collecting robots when he was just a kid back in the Sixties. He got most of his toys upon their release, and even appeared on a local TV program about collectors. In the Nineties (I think) he sold off many of his toys, but over the last decade he's managed to rebuild an incredibly impressive collection. He's also a hell of a nice guy.

As great as it was to see all those guys, I've got to admit that the high point came when the door swung open and in walked Pat Karris. Pat's a long time collector who, over the years, build up the biggest collection of Robby the Robot and Forbidden Planet related toys in the world. You name it, he owned it. When I first met him, he lived in NYC and worked just around the corner from my office. We'd get together a few times a week for coffee and conversation, and over time, he ended up teaching me nearly everything I know about collecting robots. Along with Steve Jaspen, he's one of the people who I can honestly call a mentor. Unfortunately, he moved out of town and I hadn't seen him in a couple years. Needless to say, there were a lot of slaps on the back when he strolled into the museum.

Friday, 10:30 p.m.
After dinner at a local Italian restaurant and a couple more hours at the museum for geekery and beer, we all decided to call it a night. Saturday's auction was slated to begin at 10 a.m., but doors opened at eight. Of course, I wanted to get there as early as possible. Because I'm a madman.

I was sharing a room with Karl and Steve at our favorite local crash pad, the Black Horse Lodge. Nothing fancy, but the prices are low, the rooms are clean, and the staff's always friendly. We knew there'd be only two beds in the room, so I brought along an air mattress for myself. I was pretty tired after the early morning drive and the long day of toys, and was unconscious soon after hitting the inflated vinyl...

Boom! Awake! Eyes snapped open, brain alert, sleep banished. I glanced over at the window expecting to see a little light sneaking around the edges of the heavy drapes. No such luck, which meant, I figured, that it was about five in the morning -- two hours before my alarm was set to go off. No big deal, I thought, and I grabbed my iPhone so I could read the morning's news. That's when I noticed the clock... 2:45 in the morning! Hours until the auction, and wide awake. Great.

Saturday, 3:15 a.m.
Paper: read. Twenty games of Solitaire: played. Emails to friends on the West Coast: sent. Short blog entry: posted. I started to feel a little drowsy, so I killed my phone, pulled up the covers, and settled back in for a few more hours of sleep. Er... Not so much.

I was stricken with "Christmas Morning Syndrome." I was so eager for the auction to begin, so wired from thinking about all those toys, that sleep was utterly impossible. I'd close my eyes and my mind would keep on racing. I'd slip off for a few minutes, but the robots tromping through my brain would wake me right back up.

I did have one interesting dream during a brief foray into unconsciousness. In it, I discovered that one of the robots I wanted to buy -- I don't know which one -- had a busted leg. I was so happy, because it meant my choice between the Moon Robot and Ranger Robot was clear. In fact, I felt a twinge of sadness when I woke up and realized that, damnit, both toys were as close to mint as I've ever seen. It's definitely the first time I felt upset over a toy being too nice. Man, I'm a freak.

Anyway, after tossing and turning for a few more hours, the sun finally started coming up. beating the alarm, I jumped in the shower and got dressed before waking up my compatriots. A quick breakfast, check out of the lodge, and then it was off to the toys.

Saturday, 9 a.m.
Once again, I had no idea what to expect as I drove out to Morphy's. A seething crowd of madmen, each one wild-eyed and frothing at the mouth? Me, I was a twitchy mess, and I didn't figure I'd be much better off than anyone else. Times like these try men's spirits, and most of us are found wanting. So I was kind of nervous as I got out of the car and approached the double glass doors. Deep breath, Doc. And... here we go.

Morphy's looked more or less like it had the day before, only the shelves were mostly devoid of the vinyl and die-cast toys. A bunch of people were milling around the robot cases, including my friends. I also ran into a collector and dealer named Larry Waldeman, who runs an online store called Cybertoyz. Larry's a great guy, always fun to talk to, and a real expert on robots and space toys. He was dragging some poor, young Morphy's staffer from case to case as he went through the collection, one piece after another. I decided to stick close by, checking out whichever toys he looked at, asking questions, learning something new the whole time.

Morphy's also had a snack bar set up, with cookies, donuts, and even hotdogs. I grabbed a bavarian cream donut and counted that as breakfast.

Atomic Robot Man. This is a rare version that's stamped with the words "Souvenir of the New York Science Fiction Conference" on its back. Only three or four are known to exist. I wrote about mine here.

The Atomic Water Pistol, a rare die-cast toy out of England.

A fantastic example of the Buck Rogers XZ-38 Disintegrator. That's the extremely rare box behind it.

Saturday, 10 a.m.
Time to start! We all made our way over to the auction area, a large portion of the building set out with row after row of chairs. The auctioneer was positioned on a raised platform at the front of the room, flanked on either side by two large TVs that would display the toy and lot number currently up for grabs. A couple people sat by him at computer terminals, monitoring the real-time, online bidding. At the back of the room was a bank of phones staffed by Morphy employees -- they would handle the phone bidding.

I only saw about 20 collectors on hand; I leaned over to ask Steve what he thought of the turnout. He wasn't impressed, and told me that the famous Sotheby's sale of F.H. Griffith's collection in 2000 was packed to the rafters. We all looked around at the few collectors and wondered how the turnout would impact prices.

Morphy's says that it runs through about 100 lots every hour, and with hundreds of toys to go before anything I found interesting appeared on the block, I decided to wander around the auction house to look at the other items being offered in later sales. Morphy's doesn't just deal in toys, they also have advertising memorabilia, antique weaponry, vintage vending machines -- an eclectic mix of items. Marbles caught my attention, actually, with all their weird designs and rich colors. I was also digging the old die-cast cars, including a cool, small-scale "people mover" toy from the 1939 World's Fair. They even had a case full of old, wooden Fisher Price pull toys -- fascinating.

During one of the auction's particularly slow moments -- I think they were going through the last of the Japanese character toys -- Larry Waldeman actually lead a bunch of us outside to his car, where he had a number of excellent toys for sale. A couple people bought pieces from him, despite the auction going on just inside. Because that's the kind of maniacs we are...

Eventually, the selection of toys heated up and we all began paying more attention to the auction. That's when I noticed how low the prices were. "Bargain" doesn't even begin to describe things. "Steal" comes close. As Pat said, "If you ever wanted to begin collecting these toys, this is the time and place to do it!" In fact, I saw a number of people bidding on lot after lot. Some were dealers -- like Perry and Larry -- and some were people I'd never seen before. One guy, who looked to be in his early Sixties, had a running list of what he'd won; it'd grown into multiple columns by the time I noticed it. Another collector, a younger looking guy from Europe, was cleaning up on some of the higher-end pieces. In the back of the room, a well-known dealer was bidding on behalf of some customers, and he took home a lot of toys. A few pieces went to online bidders, and some went to the people calling in by phone.

The Change Prince. The dinosaur head opens up, revealing the boy's head. Definitely a big ticket item (though, I'll be honest, it never really did much for me).

The rare Chime Trooper is a pretty whimsical looking toy. It's got a great action -- yep, it chimes when it rolls forward.

The Hiller Atomic Ray Gun. Note the resemblance to the red British gun, above. The Hiller came first. The box pictured in this photo actually belongs to the British gun -- no idea how this mistake was made, but I hope whoever purchased the guns isn't too upset.

The Mighty 8 is high on many collectors' lists. Too bad it's so damn rare, especially with the box. The color wheel is pretty amazing when it's running.

Unfortunately, I couldn't take advantage of the low prices -- the toys I wanted were near the end of the auction, and I didn't want to risk coming up short. So I gritted my teeth and watched as people picked up some of my favorite robots without putting a dent in their wallets.

This was definitely more restraint than I think I've ever shown in my life. I summoned up reserves of willpower I never imagined I had. We're talking zen focus, laser-beam eyes, the single-minded determination of the meanest guard dog you've ever had the displeasure of meeting. Slowly, ever so slowly, the lots creeped past.

Including, by the way, the Moon Robot, which, somewhere along the line, I decided not to bid on. I'm not really sure how it happened, but the Ranger took over my brain and wouldn't leave. That was the toy for me, no doubt about it. Ranger Robot was mine, it just didn't know it yet.

And so I wanted. And waited. And waited. Hours and hours of sitting there, listening to the auctioneers incessant patter while the occasional gasp of frustration escaped my lips whenever a toy sold for a bargain basement price. And then, finally... "Lot number 1275. Let's start the bidding at-"

Saturday, 6:02 p.m.
I'd been bidding on the Ranger Robot like a maniac. Just as I started to wonder if my money would last as long as my willpower, I noticed the auctioneer looking around the room. He was repeating my most recent bid, waiting to see if anyone would step up and beat it. My heart began beating faster as the auctioneer held out for another 30 seconds -- I swear, it felt like an hour. Just waiting as the auctioneer implored someone else to outbid me and drive the price up further.

No one did.

"Sold!" he proclaimed. "To the guy who's been waiting all day for that piece."

I fell back in my seat, a grin plastered across my face. It took me a moment to notice that the room was applauding. Applauding! In a day without any crazy, price-driven drama, my little moment in the sun stood out. I'll admit that it felt good, a perfect ending to what had been a loooooong day.

My Ranger robot. A great example that works like a dream. More details in future posts.

All in all, it turned out to be a fantastic weekend. Good friends, good toys, and good times. If that's not what you're supposed to get out of a hobby, well, I'm not sure why else to even bother!

Happy collecting!

It's Worth WHAT?

2009-11-18T01:49:00.003-05:00

Let's talk a little about spending money.

A good rule of thumb when collecting: If you pay what a toy is worth to you, you'll never pay too much.

Now, of course, this isn't entirely true. You could pay more than a toy generally sells for and then say to yourself, "Dang it, I could have had the toy and some extra cash in my wallet." Or perhaps you could have bought two toys for your money.

But that's missing the spirit of the saying. The basic idea is that these toys have no intrinsic value beyond what you might get if you brought them to a recycling center. Instead, their value is based on our own desire for them. If you love a toy and see it offered for $600, you have to ask yourself, "What's more important? The toy, or the $600?"

And let's say you choose the toy, and then discover you could have bought it for $500. Did you screw up? I say "no," because that toy was worth $600 to you at that moment, and the value of $600 in your mind hasn't changed. So while it's always nice to buy a toy for less, in the end, if that toy is actually delivering $600 worth of good vibes, that's all that matters.

I'll admit it, I paid a little too much for the Ranger Robot I just won. I didn't realize it at the time -- I thought the market value was a bit higher -- but I'm okay with it. I was perfectly happy with the price once the hammer dropped, I was perfectly happy with the price when I counted out the money to pay for it, I was perfectly happy with the price when I was showing off the toy to my friends. When weighing the money versus the toy, the toy won out -- that didn't change when I discovered that it has, sometimes, sold for about 15% less.

(And let's face it, I was paying for the condition. This is one of the nicest examples of the Ranger Robot I've seen in years. As one prominent dealer pointed out, finding them loose in this kind of condition is next to impossible. "It's a toy of extremes," he said. "They're either mint in box or loose and crap." So yes, I'm quite happy!)

All that said, it pays to balance the concept against sound fiscal judgement and good research. If you're prepared to pay $600 for a toy, check to make sure it's not more often up for grabs for $300. Some gaps are too wide for even love to cross.

Also, I don't recommend ever spending more than you can reasonably afford. While it's one thing to charge a purchase and pay it off a month or two later, no collectible is really worth going into deep debt over. That kind of financial burden creates a lot of stress, and you'll soon think of nothing else whenever you look at your toys. Deep debt can suck the fun right out of the thing you went into debt for in the first place, which is wonderful for irony, but not so great for your peace of mind.

Just a few thoughts on buying old toys (or anything, I guess, that doesn't have a firmly established market value).

Smells Like... Victory!

2009-11-15T01:10:00.003-05:00

My nerves are raw and my sanity's in tatters. Must mean the auction's over...

And what's that emerging from the smoking ruins? Could it be? Yes... yes it is! A new addition to the Attic of Astounding Artifacts. And boy howdy, it's a fricken' doozy.

The full saga, with pics, is coming ~~tomorrow~~ by Monday. Now it's time to collapse.

It's Go Time!

2009-11-14T06:20:00.002-05:00

It's about 6:30 in the a.m. and I've been awake for about four hours. Who can sleep? In mere hours I'll be at the auction, doing my damndest to bring home an awesome addition to the collection. Will I be able to pull it off? Dunno... The anticipation is driving me nuts. This is toy collecting as an extreme sport, I guess. Hardcore, yo.

Anyway, many pics to come. Further updates as things develope!

Off To The Auction

2009-11-12T16:11:00.002-05:00

A week without posts, I suck, I know. But it's been a busy few days as I scrambled to pull together funds for the impending Morphy auction of the Marc Solondz toy collection.

I'll be heading out tomorrow a.m. with fellow collectors -- and Attic contributors -- Steve Jaspen and Karl Tate. The plan is to stop by the auction house on Friday to check out part one of the auction (featuring Japanese vinyl and die-cast toys), and then it's off to the Toy Robot Museum to geek out with a bunch of other robot collectors. Then, on Saturday, it's the main event. I've got a few toys in my sights, and after selling off a whole bunch of random crap, I think I've got enough money to bring them home with me.

A rundown of the weekend, along with photos, will follow upon my return. Until then, happy collecting!

Vintage Photos Of Vintage Space Toys

2009-11-05T00:57:00.005-05:00

I love finding old photos of vintage robots and ray guns, and I was thrilled when frequent Attic contributor Steven Baker sent me a link to this photo on the Getty Images web site:

Inspired, I began hunting through the archives to see what else I could turn up. The pickings were slim, but here's what I found:

Another shot of a proud space cadet, armed with a Remco Electronic Space Gun and wearing an Orbit Space Helmet.

Who are those masked men? I don't know, but one of them is packing a Buck Rogers U-235 Atomic Pistol. (It might be the earlier, similarly designed XZ-38 Disintegrator Pistol, but I don't think the photo is quite that old.)

The call him the Space Cowboy, probably because he's got what appear to be two Buck Rogers Sonic Ray Guns. Judging by the hearts on his suit and helmet, I guess he's also the "gangster of love."

Ready to join up: This kid's got both the Space Patrol helmet and the Marx Space Patrol Flashlight Gun.

This photo's been featured on Alphadrome in the past. It shows a salesman's sample ST-1 Robot pushing the cart it was sometimes sold with. The rocket was never meant to go with the toy, but it sure looks good! Also, the wind up robot never actually had those weird shoulder wires.

This robot looks home made, but I thought it was cool so I decided to include it.

This is a photo I found on eBay years ago. It shows the battery operated version of the Planet Robot, and was dated 1957. That is one happy looking kid!

If anyone else uncovers anything, send 'em my way and I'll post them with an appropriate credit to both the original source and the astute sleuth.

Space Toy Auction: Marc Solondz Collection

2009-11-04T12:12:00.005-05:00

Morphy Auctions has posted their online catalog for the Marc Solondz collection, and it's definitely worth flipping through. Give yourself some time, though, because there are more than 1400 toys up for grabs!

The sale takes place both live and online on November 13 and 14. Loyal readers might remember the trip I took to view the preview a few months ago. Pictures -- many, many pictures -- from that little journey can be found in this post.

Now, granted, the auction encompasses more than just space toys. Solondz also built a stupendous collection of vintage and modern Japanese vinyl and die-cast character toys. These include super heroes like Ultraman and his ilk, giant robots, and city stomping kaiju. Impressive stuff, indeed.

But of course, I'm most excited about the wide variety of vintage robots, ray guns, and space toys. The collection covers a lot of ground, with many rare toys mixed in among some of the more common pieces -- something for everyone! Boxes abound. And while the collection isn't as complete or across-the-board mint as the one featured in the most recent Smith House auction, it's still breath taking and an inspiration to toy collectors everywhere.

If you're really interested in these toys, I also suggest ordering a physical copy of the catalog (which can be ordered via the web site). At $45, it's not cheap. However, you get a hard-bound, 200-page book filled with glossy photos of toys. The pictures aren't huge, but they're big enough and they're accompanied by some decent -- if bare bones -- descriptions.

While I'm at it, I highly recommend the Smith House catalogs for their two Alan Rosen sales -- they're auction numbers 74 and 75 and can be ordered directly from Smith House.

Combined, they cover a majority of the space toys and robots you're ever likely to encounter, and there are hundreds of rare boxes featured as well. While the photos, again, are a little small, I'd say these two books together represent the most encompassing guide to these toys available right now. I'll admit, they're not as cosmetically impressive as the Morphy catalog, but for the sheer volume of images, they're more than worth the $35 each.

A Few Brief Thoughts On Why I Show Off My Toys

2009-11-03T01:03:00.005-05:00

An interesting discussion on Alphadrome leads me to ask this question: Why do we show off our collections? Why isn't it enough to get the toys -- or whatever -- we want and then lock them away behind foot-thick doors, safe from prying eyes, sticky fingers, and the ravages of direct sunlight?

Someone pointed out that in Europe, collectors are a little bit more private than their American counterparts. Here in the States, we enjoy showing off our stuff, while across the pond, some of the biggest toy collections in the world are known to only a select few. While I can't speak for everyone, I've gotta say, yeah, I like having a chance to show off my stuff.

I'd be lying if I denied feeling a thrill every time a fellow collector stopped by and ogled a rare piece. And I'm happy to admit that I sometimes enjoy a bit of an ego boost whenever I tell someone about a great score. I'm human. But you know what? None of that's why I do it.

Truth is, I look at my collection like a mini museum, a humble attempt at capturing a certain cross-section of pop culture that thrived for a few decades before succumbing to changing fads. In those heady days before the space race really heated up, before we became mired in the sticky muck of reality, science-fiction toys embraced whimsy with fantastically, impossibly, and often ridiculously designed space ships, ray guns, and, of course, robots. They were inspiring, they were exciting, they were fun! And for no other reason than they could be.

It's easy to forget that, and in forgetting, to lose some of the spirit that drove people to dream the kind of dreams that often leave people standing with mouths agape and a sense of wonder overwhelming their brains.

In these toys we have tangible proof that a time existed when we knew rockets would take us to the colonies at the edge of the solar system. When we knew that robots would help make the world a better place. When we knew that the future wasn't a dark and scary place, but was instead a land of opportunity and adventure.

So okay, that's not how it all turned out. I know that. But looking at these toys makes me smile because I think to myself, "Maybe it's not too late."

And when friends and neighbors occasionally troop through my collection, I'm not hoping they look at the toys and think, "Wow, a Hook Robot!" Heck, none of my friends would know a Hook Robot if I used it to catch a fish. No, I hope they're thinking about how, once upon a time, a long time ago, the future was stuffed with possibilities. And then perhaps they whisper, "Maybe it's not too late."

So that's why I like showing off my toys. I'm showing off the future that never was, but might still be. Because if enough people say, "Maybe it's not too late," well, maybe it's not.

Aren't toys cool? Heck yeah...

Atom Robot (Yoshiya, 1964)

2009-11-02T00:59:00.003-05:00

Digging way back into the early days of my collection again for this next entry. Atom Robot was either the second or third robot I ever purchased; it's a little tough to tell, because I won my first three vintage robots on the same day, and this was either the second or third to show up in the mail.

I love this toy. I remember when I first saw it on eBay. I didn't really have any great robot books at the time, and didn't know much about it. I agonized for a few days, unsure about whether or not I wanted to risk my limited funds on it. Like I said, two other robots had caught my eye, one of which was very much a first-love kind of piece. But something about the Atom Robot kept calling my name... Then a large freelance check rolled in and suddenly I decided to do something rash: Bid on all three toys! It's a story I've told before: See here and here. Spoiler alert: I won all three.

It's the smallest of the skirted robots, but apparently, no one told its designers because they crammed in enough intricate lithography to fill a robot twice its size. Front, back, sides -- beautiful graphics are everywhere.

Perhaps even more impressive are all the details stamped into the tin itself. Japanese craftsman -- masters in their field -- managed to give Atom Robot complex angles and raised rivets all over its body. Getting that sharp an impression from that small a piece of tin without distortion -- or ruining the litho, which was laid down prior to stamping -- is mind boggling.

So many of the lithoed details are also stamped into the toy's tin.

As if that weren't enough, the toy designers took the time to add separate pieces of trim, those neat ear pieces, textured arms, and that amazing face -- which features a separate nose/mouth plate and those reflective greenish-yellow eyes. Expressive!

The robot's "ears" are part of the head trim.

All the details on the arms are raised as well as lithographed!

Note all the different components that make up the face and head. I particularly like the reflective elements in the eyes.

For all the complex details, the Atom Robot is a surprisingly simple toy. It features fly-wheel powered bump-and-go action that's powered by a small crank. The arms swing freely as he rolls around.

The Atom Robot isn't rare, making it a fairly easy and relatively inexpensive toy for collectors to add to their shelves. It can be found in three versions: Green eyes, red eyes, and red eyes/red litho mouth. Personally, I like the green eyed version the best -- the color really pops amidst all the red litho.

This toy has followed me for many years and through many moves. Since getting it, my collection has grown considerably, and some mighty rare and impressive 'bots have joined it on my shelves. But to this day, it's still a robot that draws my eye and makes me smile.

Auction Results: Smith House Toys

2009-10-31T13:36:00.007-04:00

There's a new extreme sport in the world, and it's called toy collecting. Don't believe me? Then you didn't stay awake the extra 12 hours to fight your way to the end of the Smith House Toys auction of Alan Rosen's robot collection. The event went into overtime at 11 p.m. on October 30th and ran until 11 a.m. October 31, marking another marathon session of toy buying, and leaving many collectors with smiles on their faces. (And some holes in their wallets!)

Prices for the 435 lots were all over the map, with record highs as well as screaming deals for savvy buyers. Personally, while there were many toys that I would have liked to own -- and at prices that almost couldn't be denied -- I decided to keep my eyes on a few (secret) prizes. These all went for more than I could afford, thanks to their rare boxes, but I know that other examples will be popping up again at an auction two weeks from now. Consequently, I let a lot of the deals pass me by. Oh well... gotta stay focused!

The belle of the ball was clearly the ultra rare Flying Space Saucer (Aoshin) with it's original box, which brought a whopping $41,923! (Including buyer's premium.) Interesting side note: It was the only piece in the sale that was not part of Alan Rosen's collection.

I'm just too tired to provide a more complete breakdown on prices -- there were just so many toys, with so many highs and so many lows. (Maybe I'll come back and do so in a later post.) There are a couple nice discussions brewing over at Alphadrome for those who are interested. And, of course, you can check out the results for yourself at the Smith House Toys website.

Congratulations to all the winners! And to Craig Thompson (and Alan Rosen if he's reading this), I hope you're happy with how the sale turned out. I think everyone will agree that it was an exciting moment in the toy collecting hobby!

Interview: Smith House Toys' Craig Thompson

2009-10-29T15:16:00.004-04:00

With the Smith House Toys auction of Alan "Mr. Mint" Rosen's robot collection ending tomorrow night, I thought now would be a good time to present an interview I recently conducted with Smith House owner Craig Thompson. It's an intriguing, behind-the-scenes look at how a rather unique auction company operates. It also demonstrates how it's possible to turn a love for the hobby of toy collecting into a thriving family business, one that's survived multiple owners, a changing market, and cutthroat competition.

DOC ATOMIC So, right now, are you surrounded by Alan Rosen's toys?

CRAIG THOMPSON No, I've got the toys in a storage unit.

You're not sitting in a fantasy room surrounded by the greatest robots ever?

[Laughs] Nope, sorry!

Before we talk about the nuts and bolts of running an auction, how about some history? Smith House was originally started by Herb and Barbara Smith in 1986, and I know they were one of the first couple mail-order auction catalog companies. How did you get involved, and when did you end up buying the company?

I'd been involved with the hobby since the early Eighties, as a collector and a dealer. I met Herb in the mid Nineties, and had bought a few things from him. Then, when I was doing some toy shows, he'd come up to me and be like, "Craig, you should consider consigning. I do way better than other guys." He finally talked me into it, and I sent him a few things for three or four auctions in a row -- and they all did fabulously! From then on, I started consigning pretty regularly.

We kept the relationship going, and other friends of mine, including my former business partner Dave Hendrickson, did very well, too. A year or so later, in 2003, Herb approached me and Dave and asked if we wanted to buy the company because he wanted to retire.

Did this take you by surprise?

It's funny, Dave and I had contemplated any number of times opening a similar auction. So it was a weird coincidence when the opportunity came up. We said, "Why not? Let's try it!"

And then eventually I bought out Dave, and now I run the company.

So how did the Alan Rosen collection come together?

I've known Alan for, oh God, I guess I met him the year I bought the business from Herb. Alan and I struck up a friendship and maintained contact since then. He's been a regular consigner since I've been involved in the business, selling off duplicates and extra toys.

Last year, when the economic... "swoon," shall we say, settled in, he decided it was finally time to sell. It was obviously a great opportunity for Smith House. At its height, before he started to sell off bits and pieces, Alan's collection was probably one of the top 10 collections in the world. Robots -- there just weren't a lot of holes. He started buying space toys because he couldn't find robots he didn't already have!

What's involved in a sale like this? Can you walk us through the preparation process?

Well, I bring stuff here to my home, I unpack everything, organize it, figure out a rough order for it to appear in the catalog, and then write the descriptions and take the photos. Getting through all that -- we're talking 435 lots, and maybe 450 or 460 toys total -- takes me about 90 days. Three months of 60, 70 hour weeks.

Three months of getting to mess around with toys.

Yep! [Laughs]

Part of this stage involves setting starting prices and, in the case of some auctions, establishing estimates. Can you talk a little about how that all works?

Well, one area where I differ from other auction companies is that I don't put estimates anywhere. There's a starting bid and that's it. To establish that price, I do research on the toy to see how much I've sold it for in the past, or how much it's sold for elsewhere.

Unless it's something ultra rare, I'll take an average of what I think it'll sell for and then set it back 30-60 percent. I base that on rarity, condition, the condition of the box if it's there, and how much interest I think there's going to be in it. This, then, establishes that opening bid.

Now, if a toy is worth $1000, why not just start it at $800 or something?

Obviously, you want as much activity as possible. Taking a robot that's worth $1000 and starting it at $800 or $900, you'll take away 80-90 percent of the activity the item might get. If that toy's worth $1000 and I open the bidding at $400, yeah, it might sell for $400 or $600. But it might also sell for $1000 or $1200 dollars if it's a pristine example and two people want it.

It's about going for that emotional attachment, right?

Yeah, and we've all done it. If there's something you want, you've spent five years searching for it, and now you've spent two weeks following it, you're not going to let it go for $50 or $100. Five years from now, are you going to remember you spent an extra $100 for it, or are you going to look at it and admire it as it sits on a shelf in your collection?

Now, you mentioned that you don't use estimates.

No, I don't. So many places put ridiculously low estimates on their toys, and then they advertise afterwards that the toy brought three times the estimate. Well, anyone who's got any brains in their head at all will look at the original estimate and see that it's ridiculous to start with.

It's a marketing tool?

Absolutely. I can't tell you how many times I've seen an estimate for, I don't know, $1200 and I know the toy is going to bring $4000. Later, they'll say it sold for three times the estimate, and that looks impressive to the people who aren't in the industry. It's false advertising, as far as I'm concerned.

That's not the only difference between Smith House and other auction companies. For one thing, you allow bidding via the internet and phone, but there's no live auction component. Why's it set up this way?

It's been like this since the beginning when the auction company's original owner, Herb Smith, was running things. And actually, he did very little with the internet, he was pretty much just phone bids.

My feeling is, if it's not broken, don't fix it. The auction company's working well this way. It also keeps the price down to not have a live component, of course. I mean, if a consigner wanted to do it and it was the right consigner, I guess I'd do the auction live. It would have to justify all the extra time and expense. Frankly, I don't know if the results would be any better, and they might even be worse!

Another interesting component of the Smith House auctions has to do with its ending time. Starting at 11 p.m., the entire auction remains open for 15 minutes until no lots receive any bids within that time. Can you tell me how this came about?

It was in place when I bought the business, and it worked really well. As far as the structure, and the way I end the auction, there are any number of benefits, depending on your point of view.

Let's say you have 10 items you're interested in as a bidder. You have X amount of dollars to spend in the auction. If you let the first four or five pieces go by because the ones you're most interested in are at the end of the auction, you risk getting to those items and then losing the actual auction. Now, in this situation, can you look at the items that have already ended and then go rebid on them? No, you can't.

Well, in a Smith House auction, you can do just that.

I know I've been in situations where there were a dozen things I wanted, but the priorities were at the end of the sale. I let the others go, and then ended up losing the two items I really wanted. In that case, I would have gladly gone back to bid on those earlier items if I'd been able, and that would have made them close at substantially higher prices.

And that's how it benefits the consigner, right?

Yes, it maximizes the results. If I'm a bidder, I go back and bid on those earlier items, and it's going to raise those individual results. The consigner stands to make much more money.

Is there any dark side to this process?

[Laughs] Yes, that I have to stay awake until the whole thing ends!

You had a preview of the toys in the Lesser auction, but haven't done so with the Rosen sale. Given how many top-notch toys are available this time around, I'd have thought you might do one. Why not?

That was an experiment, and when combined with the Botstock event of that year, I figured it was worth giving it a try. Alan and I talked about it this time around and with the extra expense involved, he was kind of luke warm about it.

Also, this auction wasn't supposed to be until the end of November, and my plan was to perhaps showcase some of the toys at the Allentown Toy Show. But with the recent addition to the market of the Morphy auction, I was forced to move this sale up. So that preview idea became impossible.

Do you think the preview at the Lesser sale affected the final prices?

I don't want to say it was a failure, but I don't think it added anything to the results. It was a nice event, and it was great seeing everything displayed in one place, but I was disappointed at the interest level. I had a couple guys come in from overseas, but for the most part, it was just the collectors from Botstock.

Your online catalog features a lot of photos, anyway. I've found it to be a pretty good gauge of the toy's condition.

I take multiple photos of everything, yeah. And most of the people who deal with Smith House know how tough I try to be with my condition ratings. My consigners complain all the time that I rate stuff too difficultly!

One of the big complaints that people have about bidding on toys is the buyer's premium -- the fee imposed upon sellers by an auction company once a toy has sold. The argument is that, if a toy sells for $1000, why is there an additional cost attached to it simply because it's being bought at auction, and not at a store. Can you explain a bit about how premiums work, and the logic behind them?

There are several different ways to look at it. When you buy something from a store, the profit margin is already factored into it. Auctioneers, we charge the consigners a certain percentage, and that's what pays for the expenses of running the auction. And honestly, that doesn't leave much room for profit. Our costs include the ads, print mailers, and the catalogs -- it's not an inexpensive venture.

So adding the additional fee to the final sale price... I don't want to say it's "the industry norm," but that's kind of what it is. Every auction house operates very similarly. The percentages can be very different, depending on who you're dealing with, but it's generally how it works. There's a tremendous expense and time put into this. I often joke with my friends -- they'll ask, given how much time is involved, do I make any money? I say that, by the time I've added up all the printing costs and I've figured out the amount of hours I put in, I make about 23 cents an hour!

While I love the hobby, I'm not here to do this for free -- which a lot of people sometimes think I should do!

That said, buyer's premiums have risen a lot in the last 10 years, but I'm still probably the lowest in the business. If you pay with cash or check, my premiums are 13 percent.

You're a small company, as you said. How much of the work is done yourself, how much do you farm out?

I don't farm out anything. I do all the photography and descriptions for the catalogs, the layouts, everything. I once asked a local printer for an estimate for the layout, and it was $20,000. Add the printing costs and it was $40,000! So I'd rather do it myself. I also do all the shipping myself. I once tried hiring some people to help out, but it just didn't work well, it wasn't worth the headache.

Speaking of catalogues and cost... and I'm probably the only one to say this publicly... There are a whole lot of people out there who have the mentality that they deserve a free catalog. Honestly, if I looked at the amount of catalogs I sell compared the cost for how many I have to print, I don't think I'd be printing a catalog. It's a huge loss. Huge.

So why do you continue to do it?

Believe me, I've come close to stopping. But again, it's the industry norm. The day is coming sooner rather than later when I don't do it, except for really big, interesting auctions like Lesser's or Rosen's.

You only do two or three auctions a year, compared to some companies that do many more. Why is that?

I'm definitely pretty particular about what I'll accept and what I won't. I could do six auctions a year if I took everything that presented itself, but it'd be 20 percent nice stuff and 80 percent not nice stuff. I'd have to expand the business, rent office space, hire more staff -- I'm a small business, and I like the niche that I've got.

How would you describe that niche?

I do very well with certain toys, particularly the tin toys, whether they're robots or automotive or character toys or Japanese or American tin, there are very few guys who do as well with them as we do.

I'm not interested in being a Morphy of the world, handling guns and marbles and artwork and pottery and toys and furniture. I got into this business because I love the hobby and that's where I want to stay. Does that mean I pigeon-hole myself a bit? Yeah, probably.

Oh well! [Laughs]

You said that when you bought the company from Herb Smith, you were already buying and selling toys. Can you tell me a little bit about how you became involved in the hobby?

My dad got me involved when I was real young. He was a general antique dealer, and always handled toys whenever he could. One of his friends owned a hobby shop and got me a job there when I was 13, and it just grew from there.

I started going to different markets with my dad. Neither of us had three nickels to rub together, but at that point, you could go out to flea markets and many different areas and buy stuff and then be able to resell it in order to get more money to buy the toys you actually wanted to keep in your own collection.

It must have been nice to be able to connect with your dad in this way.

You know, it was. I was always a sports fanatic and I played a lot of sports in school. My dad didn't really have a lot of interest in that, but we shared an interest in the toy hobby. He wasn't a collector per se, it was more of a money making vehicle for him. But still, it was something we both enjoyed doing.

So what do you collect personally?

My tastes vary widely. My core is pre-war Japanese stuff. If I had the deep pockets to really collect,t hat's where my first love is and always has been. You know, I keep my display space limited on purpose -- if I buy something to put in the case, I have to take something out of the case!

Do you ever find yourself consigning stuff that you'd want to bid on?

Yeah, absolutely.

Is that something you're allowed to do? Or is there a rule saying that you can't bid on the things you sell?

No, I'm allowed to do it -- I bid just like everyone else. There's no advantage, especially because it's a computer-based bid system. But I still try not to do it, generally, because it's expensive! Also, unfortunately, I don't get a whole lot of pre-war Japanese toys.

Maybe that's for the best.

[Laughs] Yeah, maybe!

Over the years as an auctioneer, have you had any particular highlights?

You know, just doing this for a living, compared to working a "real job," is pretty cool. I still to this day see stuff that I've never seen before, and that's absolutely cool! It's part of the fun of doing this job in the first place.

Finally not sick!

2009-10-28T19:18:00.003-04:00

Okay. Slightly delayed. Germs are stronger than I previously thought. New post tomorrow, I promise. A good one, too! Full of that stuff, waddyacallit... information! Right, full of information. And robots. Good stuff. Stay tuned!

Even Robots Get Sick

2009-10-23T03:49:00.003-04:00

Sorry for the lack of posts, but I've been sick as a robot dog for the last week. All kinds of aches, pains, and fluids. Especially fluids.

Mmmm. Fluids.

Nonetheless, the Attic will be up and running on Monday with a great interview, as well as the usual assortment of vintage toys!

Now I'm going back to my previous state of collapse.

Smith House Toy Auction Catalogue Posted Online

2009-10-16T00:20:00.005-04:00

The online catalogue for Part 2 of the Smith House Toy & Auction Company sale of Alan "Mr. Mint" Rosen's collection of robots and space toys is now posted at www.smithhousetoys.com.

Image via Smith House Toy & Auction Company

Even if you don't plan on bidding, it's worth taking the time to page through the collection. These are some of the best toy robots ever produced, all in mint condition, and most with their original boxes. Smith House does an excellent job of the presenting the toys, using many large photos illustrating multiple angles and details.

The online auction runs until the 30th. It flips into overtime at 11 p.m., until everyone stops bidding for a full 15 minutes. To give you an idea of how long this can take, the auction of Robert Lesser's robots technically went into overtime at 11 p.m. but didn't actually end until about 11 a.m. the next morning. This is toy buying as an extreme sport!

STAY TUNED: Next week I'll be posting a special interview with the owner and proprietor of Smith House. You don't want to miss it!

Atomic Robot Man (Unknown, 1949)

2009-06-16T23:15:00.012-04:00

It all started so simply. An eBay auction. A six-inch tin robot. An extra freelance check burning a hole in my wallet. A couple clicks, some bated breath, and victory! Suddenly, after having collected reproduction tin robots for a few months, I was the proud owner of my very first vintage piece: Atomic Robot Man.

I know, you're asking yourself, "Does that freak have two of them? Has he no restraint whatsoever? Is he so depraved that he can't resist the siren call of a beautiful piece of tin?"

Well, yes, no, and, perhaps unsurprisingly to anyone who knows me, absolutely, positively, rapturously yes. But that is not why I've got two Atomic Robot Men. Before I explain what's going on, let's take a general look the A.R.M.

Atomic Robot Man first hit stands in 1949, making it the second toy robot ever produced. (The first is called Lilliput, and was produced in 1938. More on that when I actually manage to get one; it's super expensive, so don't hold your breath.) A.R.M.'s one of the more primitive robots, with a body made from basic, geometric shapes -- boxes and cylinders stacked to roughly approximate a man. His hollow eyes can't see, and yet somehow they seem to take in the world all around him. A.R.M. has a compellingly eerie personality, which might be why this is one of my all-time favorite robots. And even though one or two rank high enough to more-or-less tie, this is the robot I want to buried with.

Atomic Robot Man was available in two basic versions. The first, released in 1949, featured cast metal arms; the second had two-piece tin arms. All versions feature a key-wound pin-walking mechanism. (And no, that's not why I have two; I don't own the tin-armed version. Hold tight, all will be revealed...)

Note the pin-walking mechanism.

My A.R.M. appeared on eBay at the same time as two other robots, an Atom Robot and a Television Spaceman (more on these later). I really wanted the Atomic Robot Man because it was the model for the first reproduction tin robot I ever bought, the one that really got me hooked on the idea of old toys. But looking at those other toys... they were so cool, and I wasn't certain which was the one I really wanted at that moment.

I'd just gotten paid for a rather lengthy magazine article, and the lingering feeling of financial security is the only excuse I can think of for what I did next: I placed a bid on all three. Part of me figured I'd be lucky to win even one, so I didn't worry too much about the potential expense. And now I'm sure you can see where this is going...

Fast forward a week. The auction's about to end and, appropriately, I'm at a science fiction convention, frantically hunting for a computer so I can see which toy I won. Surprisingly (to me -- you readers can guess what comes next), I won all three.

Well, that was the end of my check, but the beginning of my collection. Years later, I can't say I mind. Since the Atomic Robot Man ended first, and arrived in the mail first, it wins the honor of being my first vintage toy. Strangely enough, I can't remember whether the Atom Robot or the Television Spaceman showed up next. Let the record show that they're tied for second.

"Nice story, Doc. Now, you degenerate, care to tell us why you've got two of the little buggers?"

Certainly. First, let's flip them around:

The second Atomic Robot Man, on the right, is known as the Science Fiction A.R.M. on account of the stamp adorning it's back, which says "Souvenir of the New York Science Fiction Conference." This is an extremely rare variation, one of only ~~two~~ three known examples. The first resided until recently in the collection of Bob Lesser (long-time readers will remember Bob from the post of two days ago...). He got it from the great science fiction collector, fan, and publisher Gerry de la Ree. It sold at the Lesser auction to a guy I know. Mine came from a woman who originally obtained it from legendary science fiction and fantasy artist Roy G. Krenkel. (Let's pause to reiterate that: Mine was originally owned by Roy G. Krenkel. If you don't know who he is, I suggest a Google search.)

So what's the big deal? What's the stamp mean? Why were all the known examples originally owned by science fiction bigwigs? Why would it drive me to own a toy I've already got sitting on my shelves? Before we get to that, let's drag out the pain just a bit longer to compare the two toys more directly. Besides the stamp, there were a number of cosmetic differences, including color and lithographic details:

Two A.R.M.s. The SF version is on the right.

Spot the differences in the chest litho. The SF A.R.M. is on the bottom.

Alright, alright. Now, finally: The Stamp.

As it says, the toy was used as a giveaway at the New York Science Fiction Conference, which was held in 1950, from June 1-3, in New York City at the Henry Hudson Hotel. Also known as Hydracon, it was sponsored by the Hydra Club, a group of New York science fiction luminaries that included Frederik Pohl, Lester Del Rey, William Tenn, David Kyle, and many others. (For more on the Hydra Club, see David Kyle's wonderful essay "The Legendary Hydra Club" in Mimosa Magazine: www.jophan.org/mimosa/m25/kyle.htm.)

As for why the toy only seems to appear in the collections of old-school, hardcore science fiction guys, that can be explained easily enough: They were the ones who not only went to Hydracon, but also had obsessive enough personalities to hold on to the swag they got at the convention.

So... What about my need to own the toy against all better financial judgement? As some may have figured out, I'm a huge science fiction fan. More so, I'm a fan of classic science fiction. I enjoy reading it, I enjoy reading about it. I go out of my way to speak with that authors from that era -- it's only stalking if they catch you hiding in their closets -- so that I can hear first hand what it was like in the days before overt, crass commercialization took hold of science fiction and (nearly) throttled the sense of wonder out of it. I find no fantasy more alluring than the one where I use a time machine to go back to one of these old conventions. (Okay, shooting myself with an Inviso-Ray and then hanging out in Anne Francis' dressing room while she made all those costume changes during the shooting of Forbidden Planet ranks a very, very close second.)

For me, the SF Atomic Robot Man is a tangible link to not only the past, but to a specific time and place in the past. It is that time machine, one that connects me to Roy Krenkel and everyone else at Hydracon. To have the time machine take the shape of one of my favorite robots is icing on the cake.

I'll admit something: I debated selling my first A.R.M. when I won the SF variation. The latter cost me almost three times what I paid for the former, and even acknowledging the sweet deal I got on that first toy (the eBay gods were smiling on me that day), the new one cost me some serious cash. Selling my A.R.M. would inject some vital funds into my bank account.

But I just couldn't do it. As much as I love the SF A.R.M., I don't think anything can compare to the weird, special magic of that first toy, the one that sets up what has since become a major source of pleasure in my life.

So I keep them both on my shelf, side by side, two tin peas in a Swedish glass, metal, and chipboard pod. Can't get much nicer than that, right?

Vintage Toy Daleks (Various, 1960s & 1970s)

2009-10-15T01:51:00.005-04:00

In a universe filled with peril, one word inspires fear above all others... Dalek! Not a robot, but an alien mutant encased within a heavily armed and armored battle suit, the Daleks have one mission: Exterminate! Exterminate! Exterminate!

For more than 40 years, these psychopathic little racists have waged war against The Doctor, the hero of Britain's Doctor Who television series. Terrifying enough to send kids scurrying behind the sofa, Daleks were nonetheless one of the most popular characters to emerge from the show. It's no surprise, then, that toy companies in the United Kingdom were quick to capitalize on the public's desire for all things Dalek. A seemingly endless stream of toys flowed into -- and then quickly out of -- stores.

Doc's collection of vintage toy Daleks.

There wasn't ever any question as to whether Daleks would end up in my own collection. They're an iconic piece of science fiction history, and one of the few really great alien toys. Seriously, I've got astronauts, I've got rockets, I've got a heck of a lot of ray guns, but aliens? There just aren't too many out there. And what's a space toy collection without aliens?

But I don't need all of them, so the question quickly became, Which ones do I like? After some heavy research -- remember kids, you can never do enough research! -- I decided that a few stood out from the pack.

1. Mechanical Dalek (Cowan, de Groot Ltd, a.k.a. "Codeg," 1965)

One of the rarest Daleks, this tin-and-plastic wind up toy rolls in a wide circle while his dome and eye stalk slowly scan left and right. It's a surprisingly eerie mechanism, strangely lifelike. If the Dalek weren't a mere six inches tall, it'd probably be kind of scary!

This is the first vintage Dalek I bought, and it fell into my lap right when I decided to add the toys to my collection. I bought it from an eBay seller in the U.K., and thought I was getting the toy along with its original box -- an expensive purchase, but worth it. I don't regularly collect the boxes for toy robots, but I figured that the Daleks were (more or less) affordable enough to allow for the indulgence.

Sadly, when the toy arrived, I realized right away that the box was a fake. A good fake, to be sure, but a fake nonetheless. The inside of the cardboard was the wrong color, and a supposed pen mark on one panel was in fact part of the box's artwork; in other words, the original box had a mark on it which was scanned into a computer. When the reproduction was printed, that mark was printed along with it. A dead giveaway.

I figured I was pretty much screwed, but I contacted the seller anyway to see if I could get some of my money back. Amazingly, he refunded half the purchase price -- exactly what I'd hoped for. So a satisfying if not completely perfect ending: I bought a loose Mechanical Dalek for a fair price, and got a nice reproduction box as a bonus.

He knows you're out there... You can run, but you can't hide!

This is definitely my favorite of the vintage Daleks. I love the abstracted, simplified design and the tin body. And as I mentioned above, the action's top notch. It's a toy with personality, and that's something I'm really attracted to when looking for pieces for my collection.

The Mechanical Dalek also comes in black. It's even rarer than the one I've got. While I'd like to pick it up, too, I'm happy with the blue one. For now...

2. Bump-And-Go Dalek ( Louis Marx Co., 1964/1965)

This 6.5-inch toy was one of the first Daleks produced. It features a bump-and-go action and a flashing light inside its dome. It was made by the British division of Marx Toys.

This is a toy that pops up on eBay quite often, though it's rarely complete. Not surprisingly, the eye stalk, plunger, or gun is usually missing -- and sometimes all three are gone, leaving a strange, sad looking Dalek.

The Marx Dalek was released in four versions. In 1964, it came in two separate colors: silver and black, and featured a larger ball at the end of its eye stalk (this is the version I've got). In 1965, Marx kept the silver and black colors, but shrunk the ball down to a more proportionate size. The color of the base was also changed, I believe. Oh, Marx also changed the box for the toy's 1965 release.

Marx actually put this toy out once more in the Seventies, this time changing the colors to red and yellow. The box was dumbed down, losing its amazing artwork and instead featuring a photo of a couple kids playing with the toy. Despite the strangeness of it all, I really do like the red and yellow Daleks, and will probably try to snag them in the future.

I spent a long time searching for my silver toy before finally finding one at the right price. It was being sold by an eBayer in the United States. He hadn't listed it in the U.K. auctions and it didn't get the number of bidders these toys usually attract. Oh, and unlike my Codeg Mechanical Dalek, this one really did include its original box! Score!

Interesting bit of trivia: When filming a battle scene for an early, black and white episode of Doctor Who, the special effects artist used a couple of these Marx Daleks as models in wide shots.

3. Friction Dalek (Louis Marx Co., 1965)

This smaller version of the early Marx Dalek looks substantially the same, but stands only 4.5 inches tall. It lost the bump-and-go action, as well as its light up dome; now it zips forward after being revved along the floor a couple times.

While not the fanciest of the toy Daleks, I've always appreciated the small scale. They just look cool... a pocket sized, galactic serial killer. How cute!

The small Dalek was released in two colors, silver and black.

4. Talking Dalek (Palitoy Bradgate, 1975)

I love this toy! Seriously, any toy that talks is tops in my book. These squat Daleks use a small record in their bodies to say a number of different phrases. It's the same technology that powered Ideal's Robert the Robot in the 1950s and, later, those "The Cow Says 'Moooooo'" toys. Vinyl tech -- just awesome!

These fairly common toys came in red or silver. They can't move on their own, but do have posable suction arms, guns, and eye stalks. The record is activated by pushing the button on top of their heads.

Maybe he won't notice me... Crap!

I was able to snag a silver talking Dalek, mint in box, pretty early on. I decided I wanted the red one with the box as well, but try as I might, I just couldn't find one. Then, I got clever...

A junker appeared on eBay, and even though the toy was missing all its limbs, it had a great looking box. At the same time, a beautiful, loose example of the toy popped up. So I figured I'd bid on the one with the nice box, which ended first, and then swoop in to pick up the loose Dalek. Voila, a complete set!

My plan started off strongly with me winning the example with the nice box for a very comfortable price. Part A: Success! And then...

Then I forgot to bid on the loose toy!

To say I felt like an idiot would be an understatement. Part B: Ultra Fail!

Okay, maybe he won't notice me... Crap!

Ultimately, I ended up winning a mint, boxed example a week or two later. It didn't cost too much money, even taking into account the extra box and junker Dalek I'd picked up during my ill-fated journey into the Land of Too Damn Clever For My Own Damn Good. So all's well that ends well, right?

Right.

Before wrapping up this epic post, I want to mention a great reference book: Howe's Transcendental Toy Box, Second Edition, by David J. Howe & Arnold T. Blumberg (Telos, 2003).

This fantastic guide to collecting all things Doctor Who has been a huge -- huge -- help in guiding me through the wild, wooly, often confusing world of toy Daleks. If you're interested in any aspect of Doctor Who merchandise, either as a collector or simply a fan of the show and its history, I highly recommend picking up this book.

David J. Howe also runs a nifty forum dedicated to the discussion of Doctor Who merch. It's called, appropriately enough, Howe's Transcendental Toybox, and can be found at drwhomerch.proboards.com/.

There are still a few Daleks I'd like to add to my collection. They're not priorities, though -- I tend to go through phases, and right now Daleks just aren't in the cards. One of these days, though, the switch in my brain will flip and I'll be on the hunt for the little buggers. That's just how I roll.

Crass Commercialism! Stuff I've Got On eBay

2009-10-13T01:47:00.006-04:00

I've got stuff for sale on eBay that I think you, my happy readers, might enjoy owning. Everything's got cheap buy-it-nows, but the starting bids (and, if applicable, the reserves) are even lower. So, without further ado, let the capitalism begin!

What's up for grabs? Swing on over here to see!