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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ranger Robot (Daiya / 1965 / Japan / 10 inches)

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!

The Morphy Auction: After the Mayhem

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!

Space Toy Auction: Marc Solondz Collection

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.

Adventures Into The Land of Robots! Toy Robot Museum & Morphy Auction House

Art lovers have the Louvre. Dinosaur buffs have the American Museum of Natural History. And space toy collectors have the Toy Robot Museum. Guess where I was on Saturday? 

The Toy Robot Museum in all its glory!

I'd planned this trip months ago, and was joined by two other local collectors -- Steve Jaspen (who was interviewed for the Attic's first "Top-Shelf Titan" article, here) and Karl Tate (who wrote the article on Apollo-inspired space toys, here). Chatter about it on Alphadrome brought other collectors from the area out of the woodwork, and soon the Geek-O-Meter levels were rising fast as about eight of us descended on the museum. It was going to be a good day.

Located in Adamstown, PA, the Toy Robot Museum features well over 2500 pieces, from the very old to the very new. Cases line the aisles, stuffed with every color, shape, style, and model of toy robots. The overflow, which includes posters and related ephemera, climb the walls and cling from the ceiling. Robot-themed video games and pinball machines beep, chime, and clatter, competing with the click-click-thwok-buzzzz of a vintage Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots game. 

A case full of classics: two variations of Electric Robot and Son (Marx, 1955), and (bottom) the great Robert the Robot (Ideal, 1954) 

Joe's museum has every version of Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots. He's even set one up so kids (of all ages) can play with it.

Overseeing it all is the museum's curator, a boisterously cheerful collector named Joe Knedlhans. Catch him in the right mood -- and by that I mean "awake" -- and he'll gladly spend an hour talking about his favorite toys. Joe is an endless font of knowledge, whether he's answering questions about a vintage Robert the Robot or a brand new Wall-E movie tie-in toy. 

The man, the myth, the legend: Joe Knedlhans!

Joe's favorites: Robert the Robot. Seen here are all three variations. Over time, Ideal simplified the toy's design. 

The rare Robert the Robot flashlight.

The equally rare Robert the Robot record. This example has never been played.

Ideal also produced a Robert the Robot tractor. An uncommon, beautiful toy.

Between the toys and their owner, it's absolutely impossible to visit the museum and not have a great time. I love seeing all the robots I'd never necessarily collect, but still think are cool. And in many instances, visiting Joe's has prompted a new appreciation for certain toys. I can think of four robots in my collection that I only own because I had a chance to see them at the museum. Of course, the downside is that every visit to the museum ends up costing me way more than the $2.00 admission price! 

For more on Joe and his Toy Robot Museum, you can watch a video piece I produced, here.

There were other reasons to be in Adamstown on Saturday; besides hitting the museum, we decided to visit Morphy Auctions, which is located just down the road to the south. They were holding their preview for a huge -- huge! -- auction of over 700 vintage space toys, and it was a unique opportunity to check out some of the rarest toys, many with their original boxes. (The auction also includes thousands -- yes, thousands -- of new and vintage Japanese vinyl and die cast character toys.)

Morphy's didn't disappoint, and we were suitably flabbergasted by the cases of toys stretching out in front of us. Robots, rockets, flying saucers, space tanks, futuristic cars -- they were all jumbled together, often without much rhyme or reason, fighting for space and our attention. A riot of shapes and color, I found myself picking over the same shelves again and again, discovering new toys each time. Fun, yes. Exciting, surely. But seriously overwhelming. 

Amazingly, Morphy's wasn't displaying all the toys -- they were still cataloguing everything, and don't expect to wrap up for another few weeks! 

The auction is scheduled for some time in November. As it continues to come together, I'll post more information. Also, look for news -- and a behind-the-scenes article -- about yet another massive auction, this time from Smith House Toys, in the near future. I tell ya, it's a great time to be a vintage space toy collector!

After seeing all those toys at Joe's and Morphy's, I was itching to bring home something for myself. Luckily, the road running through Adamstown is littered with antique stores and I've had some luck in the past, snagging a couple beautiful -- and rare -- space guns for amazing prices. I crossed my fingers, and my friends and I began our hunt.

Sadly, though, our antiquing went nowhere. We'd found some nice toys, but the prices weren't great and none of us felt compelled to buy anything. It looked like I'd be driving home without a addition to my collection after all. (Cue chorus of Awwwwwww. Thank you for that heartfelt show of sympathy...)

My fellow collectors and all went back to the Toy Robot Museum to hang out before dinner, and I decided to poke through Joe's gift shop. It's a small section towards the front of the shop, filled with all sorts of robot- and science-fiction related toys, games, videos, mugs, books, knick knacks, and whatever else you can think of. Joe's also got one special case built into his front counter, and that's where he stores some of the better toys: Vintage stuff as well as higher-end modern pieces. 

And that's where I saw them: A pair of rare Strato Scout Space Phones! Score!

I collect vintage space walkie-talkies (they'll eventually appear in the Attic, I promise) and even though I already own the Strato Scout model, Joe's was a variation I'd never seen before. The price was right -- and, frankly, I like supporting my friends -- so I grabbed them up quick. 

And then I did the smartest thing I've done in a while: I asked Joe if he had anything else lurking in his storage room. See, the last time I visited the museum, I happened to mention that I was looking for an original, first-generation Robert the Robot, and if it wasn't too much trouble, I hoped Joe could keep an eye out for me. Before I'd even finished the sentence, Joe had jumped up and dashed out of the room. He was back a moment later with a beautiful example of the toy, which I bought on the spot.

So I decided to try again. And, like last time, Joe dashed out of the room only to return with another great robot: Mr. Zerox (Horikawa, early 1970s). It's a later version robot, appearing towards the end of the great space toy era, but still one that I wanted pretty badly. I'll write more extensively about it in the future, but for now, here's a shot of the robot and the Strato Scout Space Phones:

The day ended with dinner -- all the visiting collectors plus Joe -- and then one more trip back to the museum (because it's hard to get enough). And then it was time to drive home. 

I'd call it a perfect day all around, and it reminded me that, as much as I love the toys, most of the hobby's fun comes from hanging out with all my friends.

...

Okay, you got me. I'm in it for the toys... But the friends are great, too!