NEW ACTION FIGURE PROJECT - PART TWO

In a previous post, I talked about a 1/6^th scale all-terrain vehicle (ATV) that I bought as a post-Christmas clearance item at my local drugstore. I decided it might be fun to turn this ATV into a special vehicle for Captain Action. Here’s what has happened so far:

I went to my local hobby shop and picked out a color of spray paint which I thought matched the color of blue found on many Captain Action accessories. I then removed as many parts off the body of the ATV as I thought I could without damaging the vehicle. For the rest of the parts I didn’t want to paint, I masked them with masking tape and newspaper. I caught a break with the weather and was able to spray paint the body outdoors on a nice 60 degree day. However, because I had to mask significant sections of the ATV, there were several spots where the paint spray would not go.

I checked the paint manufacturer’s Web site and discovered that the color I chose only came in spray cans; I couldn’t get a bottle of the same color for touch up. After kicking myself for not checking this sooner, I decided to try a trick from my adolescence and spray the remaining paint into a clean glass bottle to condense the liquid into a form that I could brush on. Unfortunately, the trick was not as effective as it was 25 years ago as the paint in the bottle was runny and too thin to spread. I tried adding other paint to it and attempting a close match, but that proved futile.

Back at square one, I decided to buy a couple different bottles of blue paint and mix my own color. Then I brush painted the entire ATV. Although not as smooth and professional looking as spray, I think it turned out pretty good.

My next concern was finding a device to replace the swiveling machine gun that was originally mounted on the ATV. I thought the oversized assault weapon was way too aggressive looking for Captain Action, so I rummaged through my boxes of left over action figure accessories to find something more suitable. I found a rocket launcher that came with my 12” G.I. Joe Cobra Commander figure from a few years back. The device reminded me of the rocket launchers on Captain Action’s Silver Streak vehicle. I had to modify it to fit on the front of the ATV, however. It turned out that the butt of the launcher was a separate piece from the launcher itself, so I was able to carefully remove the butt without any damage to the launcher. I then cut off the mounting stalk from the original machine gun and affixed it to the back of the rocket launcher. Once I paint it, I will mount it on the ATV.

Next, I’m going to have to come up with some additional trim pieces and stickers to jazz up the look of the vehicle and make it scream, “CAPTAIN ACTION!” Stay tuned…

HI-TECH - 70s STYLE

Having a brother half a dozen years older than I created a bit of anxiety in the growing up department. From my earliest memories around age four up to age 13, I was always envious of what Craig could do or what he had that I didn’t. Perhaps that’s why I spend so much time as an adult reminiscing about my childhood; I didn’t really appreciate it when I was experiencing it. Instead, I kept yearning for that time when I would be Craig’s age and could do what Craig did or have what Craig had. I was forever projecting six years into the future. A perfect example of this age envy is in the area of electronics.

My brother was always a bit of a tinkerer (and still is, but the equipment has changed from transistors to microchips). So while I was asking for G.I. Joes and Big Wheels, he was asking for stereos and recording equipment. I remember his massive chrome and black reel-to-reel tape recorder, about half as tall as I was at the time. Something so huge that did so little would seem absurd today, but in the early 70s, this was what every swinging bachelor on TV had on his book shelves. It looked cool, but was really intimidating for a small kid.

That’s why Panasonic was the cool electronics company for anyone under the age of 12. During the early 70s, Panasonic (or National Panasonic) put out devices that were completely in line with the “mod” aesthetic. Instead of boxes made of chrome and black plastic and faux-wood, their products were molded out of brightly colored plastic in smooth, curvy shapes. They looked like toys, but still played music or recorded sounds like the more sophisticated devices did.

The first Panasonic product I remember coveting was those spherical transistor radios. They looked like one of those laser-spouting balls that Luke Skywalker trained with, but re-imagined by Walt Disney. My friend Linda had one, and we would loll away many a summer’s afternoon listening to the crackly AM signals floating out of the ball’s tiny mono speaker. The cool bonus to this radio was that it had a chain attached to it for easy portability. We didn’t use the chain to carry it around, though. We held the radio up by the chain and spun the little sphere around while songs were playing. The repetitive Doppler effect made every song sound like Tommy Roe singing “Crimson and Clover.”

A few years later, Panasonic came out with portable cassette recorders that were shaped like small boxes with rounded corners. The day-glo colored plastic made the thing virtually indestructible, and the retractable handle and light-weight design was perfect for a kid to tote around. Best of all, it had a built-in microphone so you could record your friends and family without them knowing. As soon as I got my little recorder for my tenth birthday (which was bright red, not blue like the one pictured), I set about recording my friend’s candid conversations. This was shortly after Watergate, after all, and there was a certain air of espionage about the whole thing. I remember capturing one gem from my friend Kevin while we listened to my other friend Nick speak to his Greek family a few yards away.

“Ya’ know what?” Kevin declared. “I can’t understand one word of that Greek stuff. NOT ONE WORD!”

Really, Kevin? It’s like they have a different word for everything, huh?!!

Later on, I struck up a friendship with a school mate, Johnny, and we would hang out at his house after school. With my trusty recorder on hand, we would make up the audio equivalent of Mad Magazine movie and TV parodies. And as hard as it might be to imagine, we were actually less funny than Mad Magazine, although we thought we were hilarious.

The process went as follows: we would pick a movie or TV show to satirize, think of an opening gag, turn on the recorder, state the gag, turn off the recorder, think of the next gag, turn on the recorder, say the gag, turn off the recorder, and so on until we had the whole show. When it was played back, it sounded something like this:

(Click, scrape, crackle)

Johnny: "Hey Inspector Krojak, did you take a bath this morning?"

Me: Why? (snicker) Is there one missing? (chuckle)

(Crackle, scrape, click, pause, click, scrape, crackle)

Johnny: That killer was a dead shot. How did he miss you? (giggle)

Me: I looked down to pick up a penny (chortle) and the glare from my head blinded him. (snort)

(Crackle, scratch, clunk, click)

This went on for about 10 minutes when we finally ran out of hilarious quips. We thought we were so funny, we boldly played some of our sketches to our fifth grade teachers. Looking at their slack-jawed expressions, I soon understood the saying, “I guess you had to be there.”

Electronics continued to grow smaller and more sophisticated, but the concept of whimsical, fun design went out the window. Granted, a lot of what passed for cool in the 70s was pretty tacky, but we quickly shifted to the other side of the spectrum where only black or white boxes with lots of buttons could be seen as serious electronics. It wasn't until the late 90s and the introduction of the iMac that we would see the fun brought back to home gadgetry.

NEW ACTION FIGURE PROJECT

A couple days after Christmas, I went to my local drug store to pick up a prescription. As is my habit, I walked down the toy aisle on my way to the pharmacy counter. Whenever I'm in any store that sells toys, I have to take a gander to see if there's anything I might be able to use for my custom action figure projects. During the last couple of years, toy companies have backed away from the 1/6th scale action figure format, so I usually hold out little hope that I will ever find anything interesting, but I always figure it doesn't cost anything to look.

Given my general state of cynicism, I was surprised to find a shelf full of 1/6th scale action figures with accompanying vehicles. The line was called Rescue Team, and while they won't cause anyone from Hasbro or Mattel to lose any sleep, they were still pretty serviceable toys. Each action figure was driving either an ATV or a chunky military-type vehicle complete with rocket launchers. The military styling didn't interest me that much, but I thought they could easily be modified to look like excellent vehicles for Captain Action. Still, I wasn't too keen on spending the $20 price on the box for a low-end toy I only want to experiment on. Then I noticed a tag taped to the shelf:

"All toys in this aisle 75% off!"

Of course! The after-Christmas markdowns! For five bucks each, the vehicles were looking more appealing. I still hesitated, however. For one thing, I had come on foot, and lugging one of those huge boxes home would've been a chore. Also, my house was already cluttered with lots of toys. I shouldn't add to the pile. Sullenly, I left the toy aisle, picked up my prescription, and wandered home.

During the walk back, I kept thinking about how I could repaint the body "Captain Action Blue" and jazz it up with my custom-made stickers and leftover bits and pieces from model kits. I was getting that sensation I call "toy lust," something I thought I had lost when I reached puberty and found another kind of lust. So lost was I in my reverie, I had strayed from my usual route home and had to take a lengthy detour to right myself. This gave me time to rationalize. "I can drive back to the store in my car and buy one of those vehicles," I thought. "And besides, I already sold a bunch of collectibles on eBay, so I've made plenty of room for one more new toy!" By the time I reached my front door, I had made up my mind.

After I drove back to the store, I grabbed one of the boxes from the back of the shelf without looking at which vehicle I had laid my hands on. It wasn't until I got home that I realized I had bought the ATV. Although the other vehicle had those cool rocket launchers, I thought the ATV was more suited to Captain Action and probably easier to customize. I think it was the best choice.


So now I'm embarking on a new project. Here are some shots of what it looked like in its original form. Stay tuned to see its transformation into the new Captain Action ATV!

L'IL SOLDIER JOE

Before I was in grade school, my mom and I spent a lot of time together during the day. With my father at work and my brother in school, she had to take me with her wherever she went, whether it was running errands, going shopping, or visiting with family and friends. One of my favorite day trips was visiting with my mom’s sister, whom we called Aunt Kay. In those days, my aunt and Uncle Al and cousins Albert and Amy lived in a row home in a residential neighborhood on the northern edge of Baltimore City. Although their house was slightly smaller than our own, they had a coveted “end-of-group” home, meaning that their house was on the end of the four or five houses that were connected together, giving them a much larger yard wrapping around three sides of the house. This afforded us kids a great, open area in which to play.

My cousin Albert was four years older than I, so he was usually at school unless it was summer time. My cousin Amy was three years younger than I, so we usually played together, although that was somewhat limited since she was a girl and barely able to walk or talk. This left me on my own most of the time, so I would bring my toys along to play boy stuff on my own, but I always coveted Albert’s toys. He had several of the old Aurora model kits, assembled and painted by him. Something I was not yet dexterous enough to do. My brother had models too, but his were almost exclusively cars, which didn’t interest me as much. Those Aurora dioramas, especially the horror characters, really fascinated me.

During the summer, my brother Craig would join us on these visits. Since he and Albert were closer in age, they would play together while I obligingly played with Amy, coloring in coloring books or playing with her toddler toys. There was only so much of this I could take, however, and one day, I finally worked up the nerve to ask Albert permission to play with his models. To my surprise, he said yes. I was so thrilled, although looking back, I’m not sure exactly what I did with polystyrene dioramas of Frankenstein and Dracula. All I can remember was that I loved playing with those things and looked forward to going to their house.

Of course, as with all good things, something has to happen to screw it up. While I was always pretty careful with toys and delicate things like models, I guess I got carried away one day and broke Albert’s Phantom of the Opera model. It was a complete accident, and I was truly sorry since I probably loved that model even more that he did. Nevertheless, his trust in me was broken. I tried one more time to get permission to play with his models, but he was adamant that I couldn’t touch his stuff anymore. I understood, but it made going to my aunt’s house a lot less interesting.

One afternoon when we were visiting, I guess Amy was taking a nap or something, because I followed my mom and aunt into the basement. My aunt was complaining about all the stuff that was accumulating down there. I was shocked when she matter-of-factly announced that my uncle had years of Playboy back-issues piled up, and even pointed them out to us. I guess she didn’t realize that I was old enough to know that Playboy was one of those “dirty magazines.” I was startled, but it made my Uncle Al seem a little cooler in my eyes.

While my aunt talked about other grown-up stuff, I zeroed in on the leftover toys piled around. Not particularly a toy, but one item that always fascinated me was a papier maché volcano stacked up in a corner. Meticulously detailed, I couldn’t figure out why on earth someone would have a scale model volcano in their basement. I never asked. My guess, in hindsight, was that it was probably an old science project of my uncle’s and it was so nice, he couldn’t bear to part with it.

Another item that elicited far greater excitement was this curious little action figure. He was about five inches tall, and at least two inches of that was taken up by his head. A giant, blocky sort of head far out of proportion with his dainty body. He was molded out of solid plastic, and dressed like an Army soldier. He even wore a combat helmet and had tiny belts and weapons attached to him, molded out of tan vinyl. He reminded me of the old Stony Smith action figures, but seen through the reflection of a funhouse mirror.

I experienced that unique childhood thrill I can only describe as toy lust. Your pulse pounds, your heart races, your breathing becomes irregular, and your stomach flutters. That immediate, chemical rush anyone under the age of 11 experiences at the sight of a new toy that is exquisite and irresistible. I had to possess this odd little soldier man. Showing a sense of boldness I ordinarily did not possess, I asked my Aunt Kay if I could have the diminutive soldier.

“We’ll have to ask Albert, but I think it’ll be all right,” Aunt Kay told me.

I wasn’t as sure as she was. Albert never forgave me for the Phantom of the Opera incident. A sacred trust had been betrayed. I didn’t have much of a chance. We went outside where Albert was torturing my brother in some form or fashion. My cousin had a way of irritating my brother all day long until they would usually end up at each other’s throats. If I saw Albert and my brother fighting, I knew it was about time for us to go home. Anyway, Albert and Craig were engaged in some sort of argument when my aunt interrupted to ask about the soldier figure. Completely distracted, Albert shrugged it off with a, “Yeah, sure.” I was stunned and elated! Triumph was mine.

As soon as we got home, I showed the action figure off to all my friends. Just like me, they had never seen one like it before. I played with him for all of maybe…oh, a week or so, before the magic wore off. Thing was, he was too small and oddly shaped to be compatible with our other G.I. Joes and Marx action figures. He was a one-off novelty, destined for limited playability. Perhaps that’s why Albert parted with him so easily.



Decades later, I learned that the little fella’ was made by Remco in the mid-60s and was call L’il Soldier Joe. He was part of their line of “Big Head” dolls, which included versions of The Beatles and The Munsters. There was also a L’il Cowboy Pete, who had the same head as L’il Soldier Joe but had a cowboy body and appropriate accessories. I also discovered on eBay that L’il Joe once came with an “Ack-Ack Jeep set.” I told my wife the story of L’il Joe and, being the wonderful spouse that she is, got me several L’il Joes for Christmas. Only one is totally healthy, while the others have sustained various injuries from past battles untold. I intend on rehabilitating these guys. It’s the least I can do for abandoning him so quickly when I was a callow lad.

ANOTHER YEAR

Well, another holiday season has come and gone, and we’re now in 2008! When I was a kid, I would’ve expected everyone in 2008 to be riding around in jet cars and watching television on their phones (okay, I guess some of it came true). As I get older, I realize how quickly time passes and how things don’t change quite as rapidly as I expected them to when I was younger. In that respect, I’ve come to realize how inaccurate science fiction can be when predicting our future. Just before Christmas, I went to see “Blade Runner – The Final Cut” at our local historic, single-screen theatre. I hadn’t seen the movie since it was in theatres 25 years ago and while I still love the flick, I was struck with how off their vision of the future was, now that we are much closer to the movie’s setting of 2019. People zoom around in hover cars, but they still rely on pay phones rather than having mobile ones. Police carry laser weapons, but people also smoke cigarettes all over the place. Certain changes just can’t be foreseen.

I’m not really sure where I’m going with this except to say that, the older I get, the more I think change is not only inevitable, it’s also capricious. We face so many changes that we never wanted, and we lament the disappearance of things we never wanted to see go away (like historic, single-screen theatres). Some new things do actually grow out of necessity and are welcome (I love the Internet and my iPod), but others happen out of neglect or indifference (I hate George W. Bush and Al-Qaeda). New stuff just keeps happening, while we get up every morning and brush our teeth and eat our breakfasts and carry on with the routines of the day. Life barely moves when you look at it on a day-to-day basis, but when you look back at the trail of time, my how everything has changed!

So now we embark on another year that will fly by too quickly, be filled with all kinds of highs and lows and problems and triumphs, and end with Christmas presents and champagne bottles popping, and we start all over again. All the while, we hope no one gets too ill or dies or has a natural disaster befall them. The goal is to get through the months as best you can and eke out a bit of happiness along the way. Ultimately, I think most of us just want to get through life relatively happy and healthy, and help our families to stay the same way. Meanwhile, we make efforts to provide for the greater good, the creation of a better society, but our arms are frequently too short and our vision too limited. Still, we do try.

So while we roll head long through another year, I’ll continue to babble on about the past – the good, the bad, and the ugly. I’ll show you my new action figure acquisitions and creations, and I’ll probably make up some more photo-plays with my menagerie of vinyl people. I hope you’ll keep visiting, and I hope you check out the other blogs and Web sites listed to the left. Have a great year!

THE 1966 DEAN MARTIN CHRISTMAS SHOW (IN MY WORLD)

"It's the Dean Martin Christmas Show! Tonight's special guest - Joey Heatherton! Also on tonight's show - Dom DeLuise and The Golddiggers!"


"Ho, ho, ho, this is your ol' pal Dino wishing you all a very merry Christmas. Later on, we'll have the beautiful Golddiggers out here to help me perform some of your favorite Christmas songs. But first, let's see who our mystery guest is behind our special Christmas go-go bead curtain!"


"Why it's Mr. Sean Connery! C'mon over Sean, and I'll mix you a vodka martini - shaken not stirred."

"Ya' know Sean, you and I are in the same line
of work now. In my latest picture, I play a suave,
hard-livin', hard-lovin' super spy like yourself."

"With all due respect Dean, I think James Bond
could kick your alcoholic as - say, I think there's
someone under this bar."

"It's the Men from U.N.C.L.E.!"

"Open channel D - we've just uncovered a spy ring.
There's two more coming through
the window right now!"

"Holy quadruple agent! Be careful, Batman,
they have more gadgets than you do!"

"Never fear, old chum. I'll fend them
off with my Explosive Christmas Bat-balls!"

"Hey, you two get outta here! You're not even on this network! In fact, everyone clear out! This bar is getting too crowded!"

"I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen, things got a little outta hand for a moment. Let's slow things back down with some nice Christmas carols, sung with my good friend, Miss Joey Heatherton. Say, where is Miss Heatherton anyway?"


"She's down here with me. Say Dean,
where are you hiding the scotch?"

"Frank, you're not supposed to be
on this show until next week! I think
we need to take a commercial break!"

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE, AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!

A MESSAGE FROM DR. EVIL

"Jingle bells, Batman smells, Ro - oh hi, Dr. Evil here. Just putting up some Christmas decorations around the ol' Evil Sanctuary."


"I know, people think I've mellowed over the years. Why, just the other day, my neighbor Clive Arno said, 'Ev, why don't you unleash earthquakes or bring monsters to Earth through dimensional gateways like you used to?'"


"Well sir, I have to confess that I've found a new way to channel my sinister urges while also reconnecting with my inner child."


"You see, now...I EBAY VICTORIOUSLY!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!"

CHRISTMAS COCA-COLA AD - 1952

This is the last of the Christmas Coca-Cola ads that I managed to save from a bunch of old National Geographics my father donated to the Goodwill. This one I found almost a little disturbing in its composition. On the bottom, you have well-scrubbed, toe-headed children in their footy pajamas diving into a pile of Christmas gifts. The girl, perhaps more thoughtful than the avaricious male, looks up worshipfully at the God-like apparition of Santa hovering overhead. She is clearly offering her thanks to the almighty gift-giver. In a subliminal way, Santa is a golden idol to which children pray for their material desires.

Don't get me wrong; I love the idea of Santa as this jolly old man who generously gives toys to all the good girls and boys. I just find his omnipotent positioning in the ad a little strange. It's especially weird when he, in this exalted position, is selling us Coca-Cola. It's like, "God said you must drink Coke!"

Having said all that, this ad is still a great example of an idyllic Christmas image specially designed to elicit the warm fuzzies. I think it's a real shame that magazine advertising nowadays doesn't use more artwork rather than just photos. Perhaps advertisers are worried about truth in advertising laws, or maybe it's simply cheaper to use photographs than hire commercial artists, but beautifully painted images can evoke so much more than a photograph ever can. And if you Photoshop an image to heighten its dramatic effect, everyone knows it's been altered. With paintings and drawings, you allow the artist the creative license to seduce you. I missing seeing ads like this.

I'll probably be offering up more old ads in future posts. I know I've drifted away from the toy theme a bit, but don't worry, I'll have my action figure friends back in the next post.

CHRISTMAS COCA-COLA AD - 1951

Another Christmas Coca-Cola ad from the back of an old National Geographic, dated December 1951. It still amazes me how cleverly Coca-Cola inserted their product into our collective unconscious as a symbol of Christmas. Here you have an iconic version of Santa Claus, sitting at his desk with his book of all the boys and girls who've been naughty and nice. Although the book only says, "Good Boys and Girls," we all know exactly what this means. Santa also has a globe nearby, so we know he's cross-checking the list with their locations (GPS hadn't been invented yet).

It's a classic Christmas concept, and inserted in the middle of this traditional image, we see Santa gripping that tantalizing Coke bottle. I mentioned in my previous post about how seductive gripping those 6 oz. bottles is. The effect must still work because I saw six-packs on sale at my local Target just the other day. The whole concept is tied together with the catch phrase: "Drink Coca-Cola...talk about being good!" Just incredible. I'll take this kind of advertising over hip-hop dancers in Santa hats any day. Never fails to make me feel that warm, Christmas glow, even in the middle of July.

Next time...Christmas 1952.

COCA-COLA AD - CHRISTMAS 1950

Here's another wonderful Coca-Cola ad that I swiped off the back of a National Geographic from 1950. As I mentioned in my last post, an old uncle dumped a bunch of National Geographic magazines on my family in the 1970s and they sat neglected in our basement for years. I used to read through them, but I mainly loved to look at the advertisements. By the time I was 14, I had gotten into the habit of taking household junk to the flea market and selling it for extra cash. My dad said I could take the Nat. Geo.'s to the flea market, but a friend told me that those things were so plentiful, no one would give me a penny for them. Finally, my father decided to drop them off at the Goodwill. Before he piled them in the trunk of his car, however, I ripped the back covers off about a dozen or so of the mags so I could save those amazing Coca-Cola ads. As you can see, I still have them to this day.

While this is not one of my absolute favorites, it does have the essential elements that makes one of these holiday ads so attractive. Of course, you have the iconic image of Santa looming at the top of the page, holding another icon of American marketing: the six-ounce glass Coca-Cola bottle. What has made those bottles so attractive over the decades is the feel of that scalloped bottle in your hand, the curves perfectly designed to provide maximum grip. Santa holding the bottle is a subliminal come-on.

Beneath the God-like image of Santa, we see to children excitedly loading up the refrigerator with colas to quench the thirst of our traveling gift-giver and possibly bribe him out of more presents. Taking the well-known tradition of kids leaving cookies and milk for Santa into leaving Coca-Colas is a brilliant twist. In this post-war world of rising consumerism, Coca-Cola insinuates itself into the collective unconscious of holiday traditions. The image speaks to everything Americans aspired to in 1950: two healthy, well-scrubbed and thoughtful children, modern conveniences like the refrigerator, and the ability to afford all the comforts a family would need...like ice cold Coca-Cola in the easy-to-carry six-pack container. Even though the country was not fully on the road to prosperity, and a nasty conflict in Korea had just begun, Americans kept their eyes on that future they had dreamed of since the Depression, and it was very nearly at hand.

As a pre-teen boy sitting on the floor of his basement in a very different world over 25 years later, I wanted to experience that dream as well. I wanted to live in that world that really only existed in a Coca-Cola ad. Fortunately, I was too naive to know that then.

RETURN FROM THE WILDERNESS

I've finally found some time to create a post for this blog!

I know it looks like Frankenstein and Dracula dragged me off to some horrible fate, but I actually was tied up all month participating in this year's November is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo for short). Just like last year, participants attempt to write at least 50,000 words of a novel during the month of November. By the end of the month, you must upload your manuscript to their site for an official word counting. If you meet the required word count by midnight November 30th, you win! Not that you really win anything other than bragging rights, but it's a great form of motivation if you are having writer's block and an opportunity to network with other writers who are struggling with a shared challenge.

For the second year in a row, I am proud to say I succeeded in banging out over 50,000 words during the previous month and winning my little icon, displayed to the right. I think I also have created the rough workings for a new novel, so that's pretty good too. Sooner or later, I'm bound to stumble onto something a publisher might like.

Anyway, it's now December and I'm scrambling to take care of all the little details I neglected over the past month (e.g., taking the car in for an oil change, getting my annual physical, etc.) along with Christmas shopping and other preparations for the coming holiday season. I'm also preparing a special action figure-related Christmas post which I hope will come out as well as I imagine it will. So in the meantime, I thought I'd share some images over the next couple weeks that always gave me that warm Christmas feeling as a kid.

In the early 70s, one of my uncles unloaded a huge pile of National Geographics on us, most of them dated from the late 40s and early 50s. I don't know why my Dad accepted them because they took up valuable storage space in our 3 bedroom row home, but I enjoyed occasionally flipping through them on dreary, rainy days when I couldn't play outside. I know what you're thinking, but the pictures of the topless African tribeswomen were not an attraction for me. What I really loved were the advertisements! These full page, glossy ads were so meticulously painted, evoking a world more lovely and exciting than reality. I especially loved the Coca-Cola ads on the back covers, and none were better at eliciting a sense of heightened fantasy and wonder than the Christmas ads. Here's one from 1948:



These ads, created by commercial artist Haddon Sundblom, were so strongly associated with our modern concept of Santa Claus that he was often incorrectly credited with inventing the 20th century Santa look. While he may not have invented the red suit and jolly appearance, he certainly rendered it in such a realistic way that one develops a sense that this figure is the definitive article. This particular ad also features a pixie character that appeared in other, non-holiday Coca-Cola ads. I assume he's supposed to represent Jack Frost, as in a frosty, cold Coca-Cola, but he's especially effective in these commercials for the holiday season of the solstice.

What I loved about these ads as a kid was the pristine rendering of everything in the picture. All the items in the refrigerator are so neatly arranged and the packaging wondrously bright and colorful. The toys in Santa's bag look so inviting. And, of course, the curvaceous Coca-Cola bottles glisten invitingly. You can just taste that cold, sweet liquid by gazing at those fluid soldiers standing at attention on the refrigerator rack.

Reality in the 70s was sloppy: everyone's hair was long; clothes were loud with big, floppy lapels and collars; crime and drug abuse was rampant; and polite behavior and common courtesy were considered passe'. Even as a grader schooler, I sensed that we had lost something from the era before my birth. These images from the past made that all too clear. Sure, the world wasn't as perfect as the artist portrayed it. But the mere fact that commercial illustrators aspired to present us with an immaculate reality showed a certain virtue in itself, I think.

Next time I'll post the Christmas 1950 ad and offer more of my pointless pontificating. I hope these images provide some holiday cheer!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Halloween has always held a special place in my heart. Even as a middle-aged man with no children, I still get a kick out of the decorations and the costumes and the horror movies on TV. I feel sorry for those who shun the holiday as promoting devil worship and such nonsense. To me, Halloween is a celebration of that dreaded emotion: fear. I say celebration because we have to recognize that we as human beings all fear something at one time or another. Overcoming fear is a challenge we all face, so having a holiday that revels in the emotion and, in a way, belittles it is one way of breaking its hold over us. Besides, it’s all great fun!

I always feel creative right before Halloween. When I was little, I loved creating costumes, carving pumpkins, and decorating the front yard with scarecrows and ghoulish stuff. One year, my brother Craig, the electronics geek, rigged up a speaker device in our pumpkin. He situated himself in the basement so he could look out the small window next to our front steps. With the cord from the pumpkin hidden under a towel, Craig could talk through his mic and his voice would come out of the pumpkin. Since Craig couldn’t see much from his vantage point, I would whisper to him which kid was coming up the walk, and he could greet them by name. One kid in the neighborhood really believed the pumpkin was alive and kept coming back to talk to him. It was only after the blanket slipped and the wire became visible that he finally realized what was going on.

This year, the holiday had snuck up on me and by Sunday, I realized I hadn’t done anything creative this year. As I sullenly watched the football game, I remembered that I had some old action figures that I had always wanted to do something with, but they had some really ugly headsculpts. I then thought about the old monster action figures that Mego put out in the mid-70s, and I got an idea. In a burst of activity, I repainted one of the figures to look like Frankenstein and the other one I transformed into Dracula (he already had a widow's peak). Scrounging around my boxes of doll clothes, I put together a gray-and-black outfit for Frank and I used one of my James Bond tuxedos for Dracula. I also remembered that my wonderful wife had given me a cool action figure cape for Christmas, so Dracula was complete. Frank just needed a couple of bits of plastic glued to his neck to create the electrodes.

The next day, I went to the crafts store and bought a Styrofoam platform to use as a diorama for my figures. The graveyard decorations from last year came in handy, along with the mulch and sand I had from another diorama project. Now I have a little display for the porch while I sit outside and distribute candy!

Happy Halloween Everybody!

NATIONAL MEATLOAF APPRECIATION DAY

Thursday, October 18^th is National Meatloaf Appreciation Day, according to the people at SeriousEats.com. While this blog is usually devoted to memories related to pop culture items like toys, comics, movies, and TV, I think food memories can be just as important in forming our perceptions (good or bad) of the past. Personally, I have plenty of powerful memories regarding my mom’s cooking, and I was particularly enamored of her meatloaf.

My mom’s meatloaf was not fancy; more along the lines of the fast-easy-feed-my-family-something-nutritious-on-a-budget variety. Still, I’ve never been able to duplicate its unique flavor. From what I can remember, she used all ground beef and mixed it with 2 eggs, Italian bread crumbs, and Spatini spaghetti sauce mix. She molded the resulting mix into a dome on a baking sheet covered with aluminum foil, then baked it. She must’ve had some other seasonings, though, because I’ve tried to duplicate the taste, and I’ve never quite gotten it right. The outside of the meat dome was crispy and the inside was firm but tender. Served with a baked potato and French-cut string beans, I was in childhood heaven. One evening when I was nine, I got so carried away, I ate half of the meatloaf by myself! Little did I realize then how much trouble my hearty appetite would get me into.

Traditionally, meatloaf is made with a three-way blend of ground beef, pork, and veal. Ground pork and veal were not readily available to my mom in the 70s, but supermarkets today often sell all three ground meats of equally measured portions in one package, ready for instant meatloaf making. God bless America! With this ground meat, I usually follow the basic meatloaf recipe provided in The Joy of Cooking (a must-own cookbook for anyone who cooks at home on a regular basis). While it’s a fool-proof recipe, I sometimes make adjustments depending on what I have in the pantry or how creative I feel. The rest of this post is devoted to my latest meat loaf creation:

Ingredients

9.6 oz. ground beef

9.6 oz. ground veal

9.6 oz. ground pork

11/2 cup chopped onion

2 cloves garlic (mashed)

2/3 cup finely chopped fresh parsley

1 teaspoon ground thyme (I usually crush it in my palm)

1 teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon ground black pepper

2/3 cup ketchup

1 cup plain breadcrumbs

3 large eggs

½ cup of your favorite cheese

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. While the oven preheats, prep your ingredients. Then combine all the ingredients, except the cheese, in a large bowl.

Gently fold the mess into a blended blob. Don’t mix too aggressively or the mixture will become tough. Take two thirds of the mixture and spread it out on a baking tray covered with aluminum foil. The mound should look roughly like a small loaf of bread.Using your fingers, form a trench down the center of the mound, being careful not to poke all the way through to the bottom. Fill the trench with whatever cheese you like.

Cap the trench with the remaining meat mixture and blend it so that the trench is sealed.

Pop the finished loaf into the oven and cook for 1 hour. During this time, you can prepare your sides and clean up. For this particular meal, I roasted some baby red bliss potatoes. The potatoes were sliced and coated with extra virgin olive oil, salt, and pepper in a bowl. I nuked them in the microwave for several minutes to get them started, and then I put them in an aluminum-foil-covered baking tin and cooked them in the oven along with the meat loaf.

With all this prep work on the meatloaf and potatoes, I went the easy route with the vegetable and used microwaveable broccoli in cheese sauce.

Once the hour is up, pull the meatloaf from the oven and allow it time to rest (about 10 minutes). This will let all the juices and gooey cheese settle into place.

Then you are ready to slice it up and plate.

To me, meatloaf is one of the all-time great comfort foods. It’s really worth making the time to create a meatloaf every once in a while just to experience that comforting sense of satisfaction that it brings.

THE MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E. ON DVD (FINALLY)!

Time-Life, Inc. has recently announced that they are releasing the entire run of The Man from U.N.C.L.E. episodes on DVD starting November 27th. I guess that’s as good an excuse as any to post pictures of my custom Napoleon Solo and Ilya Kuryakin action figures!

Seriously, I’ve been waiting for these shows to be put out on DVD for some time, but it’s a bit of a good news/bad news arrangement. Since Time-Life was so successful in releasing the Get Smart! series through a phone-and-Web-site exclusive offer, they’ve decided to do the same thing with MFU (that’s a rather rude acronym, now that I look at it). In other words, you have to buy all 105 episodes at once, through their Web site or by phone, and pay five “low” payments of $49.99. That's $249.95 altogether! And since it’s sold exclusively through them, there's no chance of getting a discount through Amazon or some other DVD retailer. As much as I want to see those episodes again, uncut and digitally remastered, I think $250 is a bit dear for the set.

I wish they had released them the way CBS-Paramount is currently releasing the Mission: Impossible and Hawaii 5-0 series. That is, put out one season every six months or so and sell them through regular retailers. Slap a retail price of $49.99 or $59.99 on them, but let the retailer offer a discount. That way you have the chance of getting a full season for about $35.00. If that were the case with MFU, you could get the whole series for about $100 less. It’ll take 2 years, but it’s cheaper. Time-Life, Inc. hinted that it may be available through retailers in a year, so I hope the set will then be discounted.

The frustrating part is that this series has been held up for years because of legal wranglings over the copyrights. Now that it will soon be released, I may have to be patient for another year in order to pay the price I want to pay. I could even be taking a risk because the set may never be offered at a discount, and I might have to pay even more if it’s discontinued. I’m sure this is some dastardly Thrush plot! Here's your next mission, men: The Overpriced DVD Box Set Affair!

LUCKY NUMBER SEVEN

Kathy and I will have been married for seven years on October 7^th. I said this last year and I still mean it: where did the time go?!! It’s been nine years since we started dating and it seems like last week. Of course, if I really flog my brain to recall what I was like back then, it can feel like ages ago.

In 1998, I was a pretty up-tight, closed-off workaholic who’d rather have a root canal than go on a date. My last date had occurred six years earlier and that was a blind one at that. I can honestly say I was a complete gentleman and did nothing that could be viewed as an offense to the woman. Still, she never returned my phone calls. It was fine with me if she didn’t want to see me again, but I was really hurt that she didn’t think I even deserved to be told that over the phone. Pretending I didn’t exist put a major wound on my fragile self-esteem and I plunged into a deep depression for about six months (there were other factors leading to this emotional collapse, but I won’t go into them now). Anyway, once I had pulled myself together, I swore off dating and preoccupied myself completely with work. Not such a great plan since I hated my job almost as much as dating. After six years of long hours and virtually no social life, I was a pretty miserable soul. God knows what Kathy could’ve seen in me then, but thankfully she saw something and prodded me into a first date.

Looking back, that first date was kind of a mini-tour of Baltimore kitschiness. We actually double-dated with the couple who introduced us, which was great for me since I was completely at a loss as to what to do. Kathy kindly set the itinerary. First, we had dinner at the Paper Moon Diner on 29^th Street. Situated in a converted house, the Paper Moon Diner is painted in garish colors and decorated with funky odds and ends (the front yard sports a naked mannequin in a bear-claw tub and a toilet with flowers growing out of the bowl). Inside, the walls and ceiling are speckled with action figures and toy planes. The primary colors continue throughout and the furnishings are a mixed bag, from 50s-style diner tables to rickety wooden ones that have seen better days.

The current menu looks to be pared down to diner favorites, but back then they had some more adventurous offerings. Although I really wanted the meat loaf, I tried to show my versatility by ordering the veggie quesadilla. Kathy thought it was an odd choice and my style of eating was even odder. I was so nervous on that date, I was terrified that sour cream would dribble down my chin or a chunk of artichoke would fly from my mouth. As a result, I practically buried my face in my plate while I ate. Kathy later said she felt sorry for me. I guess I did seem kinda pathetic, although I had no idea how stupid I looked at the time.

After dinner, we went to The Senator Theatre to see John Waters’ Pecker. I mean to say his motion picture titled Pecker. For those who don’t know, The Senator is the only functioning single screen theatre in Baltimore; a throwback to a time when movie houses were palaces of fantasy and escapism. For anyone who has never experienced such a movie theatre, it’s hard to explain how special it feels to walk up to such a place on a busy city street, step under the glowing, neon marquee, pay for your tickets at the outdoor ticket booth (you don’t even have to specify which movie since there’s only one), and step through the glass doors into the round art-deco lobby. The rest rooms have furnished waiting areas, and the interior of the theatre is aglow with spears of colorful, indirect lighting emanating from the walls and ceiling. Before each show, the theatre’s owner, Tom Kiefaber, provides a pre-recorded lecture on the theatre and its upcoming attractions. Most of the speech is the same, so regulars can recite key sections of it like a sing-a-long.

That night, we saw the latest John Waters movie. I even learned a new term: tea bagging. I won’t go into its meaning here. John Waters, of course, is a Baltimore fixture and the city’s documentarian of all that is quirky, seedy, and crass about Baltimore (I mean that in a good way). He’s also someone you will most likely spot somewhere if you live here long enough. His house was only a block or so away from where Kathy lived back then. It may sound silly, but it feels kinda special to have such an internationally known celebrity in your midst, especially someone who’s made a living out of celebrating your hometown.

After the movie, we went back to Kathy’s house where our friends departed. I was pretty wiped from painting my kitchen earlier in the day, but I didn’t want the date to end. I was so grateful when Kathy made me a rich, strong cup of coffee that fortified me so we could talk into the wee hours of the morning. I was amazed at how easy the date was. We had so much in common and what we didn’t have in common, we found fascinating in each other. Given how little I had dated, the odds of hitting the jackpot so quickly were astronomical. Somebody upstairs must’ve taken a shine to me.

I don’t have any coherent way of tying this together. I’m reminded of a line from Our Town that was spoken by Dr. Gibbs to his wife prior to their son getting married. I say I’m reminded of it, but I can’t remember the exact words and I don’t have a copy of the play handy. Anyhow, in effect he said that, on their first date together, he was so nervous because he thought they wouldn’t have anything to talk about. Still, they dated and got married and stayed married for many years and the whole time, they were never at a loss for conversation. When Kathy and I sit across from each other after dinner every evening and chat about the day’s events and politics and gossip and pop culture, I think about how incredible it is that we’re never at a loss for things to say and we’ve never lost interest in each other. I look forward to many more years of conversation.

Happy anniversary sweetie!