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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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




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

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



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






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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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




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

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




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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Photo: John Rigg)

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

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

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

(Photo: John Rigg)

(Photo: John Rigg)

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

(Photo: John Rigg)

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

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

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

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

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


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