Things and Stuff
Recollections by Allen Kazmerski
It was in 1955, when I was eight years old and full of curiosity and wonder that those first memories were likely formed. Forged within a family circle in a small community of long ago that no longer exists, except for those cherished memories.
So, I now share with you those bygone happenings…
“Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear, when from out of the past come…” memories of things and stuff.
I’m referring to memories collectively gathered, forming a foundation of fondness and a feeling of comfort for things and stuff. These memories are of the simpler things in life that form a background for the weightier events in our lives like birthdays, first day of school, graduations, holiday gatherings, first kiss, first love, weddings, funerals, first car, first beer, first day at college, and so on. This essay is a whimsical look at those peripheral things and stuff that existed among us years ago, but for the most part, are a relic of the past. So here we go with the seminal history of things and stuff from 1955-1965.
The definition of things and stuff in our
context means the toys and games we played with, fads that existed, our manner of speech, the tech items, or lack of them, even nature stuff and, well, things and stuff like that. Let’s not just make this my things and stuff list. Join in with your memories and grow the list.
Let’s start with the toys. At ages eight through twelve, toys were our world. The number one most important reason to roll out of bed in the morning. Maybe except for bacon.
Memories of magical toys evoke the nostalgia of Christmas mornings like no other. These are some of the toys that I remember Santa left for me on those long ago Christmas mornings, where the sound of torn wrapping paper prevailed.
All boys of that era wanted a toy train set. The detailed realism of the shiny deep black locomotive or red caboose, the speed on the tracks, the trestles, the shear heft of the locomotive, the sound of engine and train whistle, and the all-important puffs of smoke emanating from the stack, all put this toy at the top of the wish list. Whether a Lionel, Marx (my train), or the American Flyer, this toy delivered the goods all across America.
There was one boy who got even more than sheer delight during that era. That boy used to stage toy train wrecks over and over until Dad intervened. In a story by Gregg Kilday called “Steven Spielberg’s Train Keeps Rolling” he wrote, “At first, though, that meant that young Spielberg became obsessed with staging wrecks with his Lionel model trains. When his father told him to knock it off, he used a Kodak 8mm camera to film one smash-up. “It actually brought the same feeling of gratification watching that little home movie again and again instead of actually wrecking the locomotive,” he said.” That first home movie of the toy train crash was, perhaps, the impetus for the making of the greatest filmmaker of all time. Little did Santa know what he delivered to little Steven. Or maybe he did?
The movies and tv shows of this era were dominated by the Western cowboy genre. So, every kid just had to have a toy cap pistol. These “guns” were made of die-cast metal (liquid metal poured into a mold) with embossed markings copying the look of real guns and many looked remarkably authentic. Cap guns get their name from the roll of caps that contain a tiny powder charge that creates a loud sound simulating a gunshot followed by a trail of smoke. Whether your shot sounded like ka-pow, blam, bang, or pow, your imagined bullet flew true and found the target, and that target usually wore a black hat. It all resulted in a fun day of imaginative play and adventure.
Not many kids receive toy guns as presents these days. Probably a good thing. I guess we lived in a simpler time. Don’t think it did us any harm though.
Here’s a true story involving my favorite toy gun. A gun you cannot tell is a toy. Thirty some years ago a terrible incident took the life of a well respected friend and businessman who was shot to death in Little Falls by a serial killer.
It jolted our otherwise tranquil community and put it on heightened alert as the killer had not been apprehended. People walking in our streets were stopped and interrogated. Door to door searches were conducted in an effort to flush him out.
Two men in suits knocked on our door. I was not home. My wife Geri answered the door and the suits said they would like to ask a few routine questions. Geri was sitting in a chair near a book case and the (Geri insists they were FBI) agents sat across from her on the couch. Both agents wore holstered guns that could be seen under their suit coats. They asked where she was last evening, whether she knew the victim
or saw anything suspicious. She was then asked if there were “any guns in the house.” She replied “No, we don’t own any guns. We don’t believe in having guns in a house where children live.” The questioning became more intense and went on for 15 minutes. The agent then came back to, “Do you own a gun?” Again Geri answered “No, we don’t own a gun.” The one agent said “Ma’am, we’re going to ask you to step away from the bookcase” and he proceeded to the bookcase. He opened the glass cabinet door, reached in and picked up a gun with two fingers on the butt, to not disturb any incriminating fingerprints. Geri was sure the other agent was taking out his handcuffs, when she blurted out “That’s my husband’s toy gun!” The agents proceeded to take the gun apart and then finally admitted that they had “never seen a more realistic looking toy gun!” The two agents refused an offer of a piece of pie and the dragnet moved on to the rest of the neighborhood. Geri had been cleared of any involvement in the commission of the murder.
Remember the very popular Paul Winchell and Jerry Mahoney act? Paul was a ventriloquist and Jerry Mahoney was his sidekick “dummy.” Edgar Bergman and his two dummies, Charlie McCarthy and Mortimer Snerd, were maybe the best known ventriloquists, along with Senor Wences and his Pedro, known for his famous “S’alright!” And of course Shari Lewis and her Lamb Chop. Well, I was a big Winchell and Mahoney fan, so Santa brought me a Jerry Mahoney dummy. I thought he was quite lovable back then. He’s pretty creepy looking now. I think he’s still in the attic at my parent’s house. I’m not going up there.
The Slinky. I have delightful memories of first seeing that Slinky take the back stairs to my Grandfather and Grandmother’s downstairs apartment. As I’m sure you have that memory too – well, not going down the stairs to my Grandmother’s, but wherever the stairs were where you launched your own personal Slinky. Once started, the entire spring slowly uncoils and flips end over end in a periodical motion, as if it were “walking” down one step at a time. If you watched closely, you’d see it stretch to reach the next step down, reform itself, then stretch again to reach the next step, and so on. This process is possible because of gravity and the Slinky’s own momentum.
You’re not going to believe this but the Slinky came with the scientific explanation behind the Slinky mobility! I’ve kept it all these years so I could share it with you:
Santa also vested me with the Magic 8 ball, the trusted and dependable wise fortune teller that saw all. Inside the jet black ball with the number eight emblazoned on it was a reservoir of dark blue liquid that contained a floating white plastic 20-sided die. Each of the die’s 20 faces has an enchanting affirmative, negative, or other wise advice printed in raised letters. These messages are read through a window on the ball’s bottom. The directions are rather rudimentary. Ask a yes or no question and the infallible Magic 8 Ball will respond with the legitimate, authenticated truth. There you have it. Did you, like me, spend hundreds of hours planning our life’s next move based on the plastic 8 ball’s answer? Let’s ask the Magic 8 Ball that question…..
Here is a memory of mine that was entwined with the wrapped toys laying under the tree early one Christmas morning. It hadn’t snowed that December and everything was a drab dirty gray and my sister and I were disappointed and also a drab gray. But on that Christmas morning, as we got out of bed my mother called us to the window, opened the blinds and said to look outside. I pressed my nose against the window pane. The first snowfall of the season is truly enchanting. Soft, delicate swirling flakes descending from the sky, blanketing the landscape in a pristine layer of white. The world takes on a serene and hushed atmosphere as the snow gently covers trees, rooftops, and streets. It’s a magical sight that brings a sense of wonder and excitement, signaling the arrival of a new season and the joys of winter activities. As little kids, I think our hearts are not big enough for all of that childlike joy that floods our emotions, such as when I saw that swirling snow falling everywhere; just what we had wished so hard for when we went to bed. A white Christmas. My sister Kathy and I were overcome with jubilation. One of those memories that stays with you forever.
Every grown man reading this, who, as a boy had an electronic football game, can remember the unmistakeable fuzzy, deep buzzing, vibrating rumble sound. Detailed plastic players on bases, which react to the vibration of the field, are placed on the field in formations, just as in real football, with the offense and defense nose to nose. The switch is thrown and the green metal field vibrated and caused the all star plastic athletes to, well, agitate and twitch. The tension mounts as you eye your favorite teams progress. Yes! The current is causing the field to vibrate -yes! – and the players are, well, milling about the field – yes! How exciting! Not. No amount of time or practice could get you to complete a pass or make a decent run. Every “player” would just grind in place against another, or turn in circles until, mercifully, the ball carrier touched an opponent and the “action” was over. We kept reading the instructions thinking we were doing something wrong. We all wanted that game to be good. Damn, we willed it to be good. One of the most frustrating toys ever built. One of the worst games ever devised. Thanks Santa.
Or maybe you were blessed with an erector set, frisbee, play dough, Mickey Mouse ears, Kissy Doll, marbles (remember the cats eyes?), Barbie, Lincoln logs, Easy bake oven, paper dolls, Ginny doll, Charlie McCarthy, View-Master, or a snow cone machine.
Remember pick up sticks? Tough game for a young kid but it did tend to teach you patience. Taught you that you could come in second place too – not that you win or tie every time. Do we still teach that? That you could sometime lose a round in the game of life?
I do hope you never received a fruitcake as a Christmas gift like I did. A beloved relative thought I loved them. I did not. Comedian Johnny Carson once said, “The worst Christmas gift is fruitcake. There is only one fruitcake in the entire world, and people keep sending it to each other.”
Maybe your tree was graced with Dominos, Chinese checkers, a doll house, paper dolls, Etch-a-Sketch, weaving loom, Silly Putty (remember pressing it into comic books or the Sunday newspaper comics?!), Walking Wanda Doll, Chatty Cathy, jacks, Chemistry set, pop beads, adjustable clip on roller skates with key, Checkers, Operation, Mr. Potato Head, Betsy Wetsy, mood rings, or the game Sorry, Parcheesi, Candy Land, Stratego, or Monopoly.
Then there’s the BB guns – maybe even the Red Ryder model. Imagine that today; 12 year olds running around with guns that could actually put your eye out? What were they thinking?
A genuine Red Ryder Carbine Action 200-shot air rifle
Perhaps Santa left a Nancy Drew mystery or a Hardy Boys book?
Remember the doll Tiny Tears? I do because my sister Kathy had one. It was her favorite doll, went everywhere with her and even slept with her. Until one fateful day. Tiny Tears fell and cracked her arm and leg pretty severely. There were Big Tears shed over Tiny Tears. Well, the arm and leg failed to improve, and my father pulled the plug on the patient. He deemed it simply a broken toy and decided to remove it from my sister’s collection. My father, as fathers did back then, threw it in the trash, and later rode out to the dump and threw out the trash with Tiny Tears in it. That didn’t go over as well as he might have hoped. The female committee at home were debating the merits of that act. Needless to say my father was made to return to the dump and under the moonlight and with a flashlight he recovered the near lifeless body of Tiny Tears. Whom he brought home and into the arms of my sister, who nursed her back to health. Sort of.
Remember the fads of the era? A fad, according to the Oxford language dictionary is “an intense and widely shared enthusiasm for something, especially one that is short lived and without basis of the object’s qualities; a craze.” I think it boils down to a desire to be part of a current trend in a sometimes rather dubious “craze”. One doesn’t have the pluck to not join in and, there you have it, a “crazed” fad is born.
One respectable fad that stands out immediately was the hula hoop because of its enormous popularity in the late 1950s. Seemed like every family in America had at least one, and it was not something only the kids used, but dads, mom’s, and grandmas and grandpas gave it a whirl too. We used to throw them out in front of us using a reverse spin so they would hit, spin in place a couple of revolutions and then come spinning back to us. Some kids double or triple majored in hula-hooping.
Yo-yos were a universally popular fad and, because it was so cheap, everyone had two or three. Similar to Ford, Chevy and Chrysler, the yo-yo came in various models with upgrade options and custom colors available. Most were manufactured by the Duncan Yo-Yo Company.
I had a couple. One was a cobalt blue model with four inlaid “jewels” and I was convinced they were real diamonds because they cost 25 cents more than the basic model.
The other was a cool translucent red plastic model. Most of us could master the basic up and down yo-yo move. The more advanced owners could show off more challenging tricks such as the sleeper, around the world, or rock the baby. None of my neighborhood gang were advanced owners.
Flicking a jackknife? Remember that? That certainly qualified as a “craze”. Get this, the player who sticks his jackknife closest to his own foot wins. What was that all about? Fortunately a fad that became a relic of the past.
Other fads: Baseball cards on bicycle spokes that made a “cool” motor sound, penny loafers, jump rope, madras shirts, white bucks, bell bottoms, wax lips, letter sweaters, Tie-dye t-shirts, coonskin hat, buckskin jackets, the iconic gray felt poodle skirts with white bobby socks and saddle shoes, spoolies, lava lamps – turn out the lights and watch the various ebbs and flows of the blob – sock hops, drive-in movies, sideburns, fuzzy dice, Camel cigs rolled up in t-shirt sleeves, boondoggles….
Another fad, the lucky (not for the rabbit) rabbit’s foot. Really? Why?
Remember the shirt with that little loop on the back? The coveted little pieces of fabric would be ripped off by overly enthusiastic teenage girls to indicate that they had a crush on the boy wearing the shirt. Or what was left of it. Tightly stitched loops would often tear a large rip in the shirt rendering it unwearable. Ya gotta ask who thought up this “craze”? Who seconded the motion? Just where was this idea nurtured and birthed? Fortunately we now have the social network to announce our modern crushes, saving thousands of favorite shirts from an early demise.
Mini-skirts – “Those were the days my friend, we thought they’d never end”…
setting in.”
Of course we can’t forget the 3D movie fad. I couldn’t wait for the next 3D movie to be released. Where did they go? Don’t you think the studios should make more of them?
Then there’s our high tech “stuff” of the era. Our telephone was one. In the 1950s, when you picked up the telephone, you did not hear a dial tone. An operator would be on the line live, and would ask, “Number please”. The operator would plug a patch cord on the big switchboard into that party’s number. Further technical advances would have led a 1950s Steve Jobs to be on stage introducing the latest innovations of the phone: the rotary dial phone!
Remember the party line when you would share a line with several other users? You couldn’t make a call while another party was talking! You could pick up the phone and hear their conversations! Or, if the conversation went on too long, you would
politely?? ask if they could hang up so that you could make a call. It was kinda like an iPhone. “I” need to make a phone call.
At a leisurely pace, black and white televisions were replaced by the high tech color models. Do you remember when tv stations started transmitting at 6:00am and shut down at midnight? The first image seen in the am hour was a color test pattern.
At midnight an announcement commenced thanking us for watching, and that the broadcast day was coming to a close. The triumphant end of the broadcasting day was celebrated by a rendition of the Star Spangled Banner. Did you stand up? This followed by the “Indian head” test pattern, accompanied with a shrill, obnoxious shrieking sound as the screen would turn to static.
Other advanced high tech “stuff”: Wire handled flyswatter, transistor radio, yellow tape to catch flies, fluoroscope x-ray shoe fitting machine, washing machine with “mangle” attachment, and the mimeograph machine was the copy machine gold standard.
The Kodak “Brownie” was the go-to high tech camera of the day. Just point and shoot. Then wait a week.
Pinball machines!
That game was fascinating! Real high tech stuff here! The tension mounted as you engaged the spring loaded plunger, launching the steel ball in a slow arc, the ball then pinging, tilting and crashing its way through the maze. This could go on for several neurotic minutes. Eventually a desperate use of the flippers were used to give the ball ever lasting life. Flashing strobe lights in an array of colors chased the ball and melodic chimes and ringing bells tolled as the score mounted up. Can the video game of today really compete with it?
Then high tech was really born.
Kids today will never know the high tech struggles of landing the needle perfectly onto the song cut of their choice.
Of course because we were so cool back in those days, we had to have our own cool language too. The Beatnik era was responsible for some of our vocabulary such
as groovy, hey man, don’t be square man, let’s split, let’s go back to my pad, you hip?, far out, you’re a cool cat, and my favorite, can you dig it? Other phraseology included got it made in the shade, spaz, take a picture (said when someone is staring at a person too intensely), everything’s copacetic, outta sight, you’re giving me good vibes, it’s a gas man, he’s mellow man, that was a bummer man, let’s burn rubber, and now you’re cooking with
gas. All I remember was that we thought we were real cool man.
Then there’s that special cheerleader language!
Push ‘em back, push ‘em back, wayyyyy back!
Hit em again, Harder, harder
Hit em again, Harder, harder!
Hey, hey, What do you say?
Push ’em back the other way!
We want another one.
Just like the other one
Score, score, score!
Two, four, six, eight,
who do we appreciate!
What about nature? Fireflies or lightning bugs, whatever you called them, were everywhere. Remember going out at twilight and being enchanted with that amazing soft glowing light? Then gently trapping them in your cupped hands and placing them, along with their cousins, in a pint jar. A simple summertime diversion, that created a memory that stays with us.
Then there’s the colorful butterflies. Remember the bold colors with the exquisite wing designs fluttering in everyone’s garden. Mother nature was in the garden with a paint brush adorning winged flight. An automatic “Zen” Garden it would be. Don’t see many of them now.
Is it true that there were more rainbows back then? Remember as a kid, seeing and chasing them and being overjoyed? I even remember double rainbows. Double the pot of gold?
Nature took its course as dogs were not on leashes and roamed the city. Sometimes you
stepped in the proof.
Other musings of the era….
H&S Green Stamps were collected by everyone.
Black and white tv’s were once the only
choice, then the advent of color tv was cause for a national euphoria.
Jack Lalanne was the pioneer of fitness and nutritional value.
“Wagon’s Ho!” shouted Wagon Train’s Ward Bond!
Black Americans couldn’t stay in most hotels.
Every kid wanted to be Davy Crockett, “King of the Wild Frontier”.
Everyone watched “Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color”- and does anybody remember the Davy Crockett episode about “I’m Mike Fink, king of the river”?
Wearing “dungarees” and rolling up the pant legs.
Home milk delivery with glass milk bottles.
Heavy wooden handled push lawnmowers
Heavy wooden handled snow shovels.
Putting on and taking off snow chains.
A president states we will land a man on the moon by the end of the decade.
Black Americans couldn’t vote.
Doctor’s are quoted as recommending a certain brand of cigaret on tv ads.
Hippies. Peace sign.
Kids thumbed through volumes of the Encyclopedia Britannica or the World Book to get information for their book reports and history projects.
“Chunky, what a chunk of chocolate.”
Everyone sent postcards.
Gasoline price was 29.9cents/gal.
Crew cuts were the norm for kids – until the Beatles arrived.
Black Americans had to drink from a different water fountain.
Girls in high school did not have an opportunity to play most sports.
Keds, PF Flyers and (Chuck Taylor) Converse were the only choices.
Baseball was the national pastime and who was your guy, was it
Willie, Mickey or the Duke?
Burma Shave signs – the verse on the side of the road.
Coca Cola tasted better then.
Sundays were family days.
“Blue laws” restricted alcohol sales and shopping on Sundays- most retail stores were closed on Sundays.
Teen boys would let their hair grow out, slicked it back and were called “greasers”.
The little hand held transistor radios were the rage.
Cousin Brucie’s Saturday Night Rock ‘n’ Roll Party” ruled the teen radio audience.
Young men with fast cars were hot rodding or drag racing.
Movie westerns ruled.
TV westerns ruled.
Family sitcoms ruled.
And Wolfman Jack howled through the late hours spinning a new sound called rock ‘n roll!
And there were those who said Rock ‘n Roll would never last.
Alas, Rock ‘n Roll is here to stay!
I hope that in sharing my memories, they prompted memories of your things and stuff that brought a smile to your face.
Signing off, after one additional item that is surely a relic of the past: The official national sports drink when I was a kid.…
Note:
This article is the second in a series of “1955-1965” writings by Allen Kazmerski. The first, which you can find on this site as well as the Little Falls Historical Society’s site under their “Writing Series,” is entitled “The Main Street in Little Falls, circa 1955-1965.” The next title in the series is “Our Music – 1955-1965.”
Alan Thanks for Trip down
Memory Lane
Ann C