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

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)

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!

Re-Arranging The Shelves

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)

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)

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.

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

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)

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!

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

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.

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

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.