ANATOMY OF A 1980s NOVELTY SHOP WINDOW DISPLAY

 

UPDATE!: Be sure to scroll all the way to the bottom of the article to check out an amazing reply to this post from Mark Pahlow, founder of Archie McPhee!!


Content Advisory: It's pretty mild, but this post contains some imagery that might not go over well at the office, or any place where semi-nudity and crude humor isn't okay.

During a recent journey across the internet I happened upon this photo of a genuine novelty shop window from the 1980s. I'd like to send out my heartfelt thanks to the anonymous soul who had the wherewithal to capture this piece of space and time. The cost of film and development alone would prevent most from snapping a picture like this. (That's why I suspect it was taken by the shop owner or the window dresser, but I'll speculate more in a moment.) Not only does it exist— it's a quality photo and somehow it made the digital leap onto the web! The extent of the display is also remarkable even for a time when novelty items were more prevalent.

After marveling for a while I put on my cyber-detective hat and started asking questions.
When was this photo taken? 
Based on the "Think Fat" poster I have deduced that it was taken in 1985 or later. However, the mix of merchandise goes back at least a decade and a half before that. For instance, the Executive Waste Basket Ball dates back to 1966 (though they remained on shelves for a long while). A couple other packages have that late sixties look too. This may be a clue as to when the store opened.

Where was this? 
Certainly in the United States, as indicated by the Jimmy Carter bottle opener, and probably below the Mason-Dixon line considering the confederate flag, hat, and bow tie. It's most likely a touristy spot. Some place like Gatlinburg, Tennessee, or maybe somewhere in Florida or Texas, or perhaps an east-coast beach town?

What store is this? 
Is the business called Michel's or Michelle's, or something else? That's still a mystery.
UPDATE:  When I reversed the image and enhanced it a bit you can see another sign that says "Michel's."
Also, commenter Hugh Walter theorizes that it could be an internal display, possibly for trade rather than retail. Very interesting!

Of course the big question is, what exactly were they selling? After a lot of staring and a lot of googling I've been able to identify over two dozen objects, and I've located photos of most of them. Some I recognize, but couldn't find photos of. These include: the big blue Sob Scarf, the Talking Refrigerator at the bottom, and that particular Lucky Dice display.

A couple of them remain shrouded in pixels. The one that drives me nuts is the thing that looks like a camera in the bottom middle. The image on the side looks like sequential shots of a baseball player. Is it some sort of novelty camera?

EDIT: Solved!
Reader "VertigoJon" did some serious detective work. He says...
"I set out on a mission to figure it out.
5 hours later, after photoshop-forensics I still couldn't get it. Inverting colors, playing with contrast, blurring, sharpening, de-noising… nothing.

The text looked like preppy gag, troute king, pyeig-L rug, peng's rag… and on and on. I did google searches of all sorts that would drag up vintage camera gags.

Finally I got it! On the box, over what looks like the camera, I was trying to figure out what the yellow stripe was when I say what looked like red letters. I THOUGHT I could clearly make out “PHONE”… so I went with that. It isn't “king”, it's “ring!!

Then an epiphany! PHONE-Y RING!
A quick google of that term confirmed it."

The Phone-Y Ring was produced by Cal Themes who was also responsible for a line of "jiggler" creatures and animals, as well as a selection of suggestive box gags. It came out in 1980 which happens to be the same year that CaddyShack hit theaters. Thus, Rodney Dangerfield's high tech golf bag, complete with telephone, may be the inspiration behind the golfing imagery on the side of the box.


The other one I want to know about is the pinkish box in the bottom left with the hand dropping something (a coin?) into another hand. There's also that tasseled fabric thing hanging next to the flags in the upper right corner [edit: solved! see further below]. This could be another clue to the locale. If you have any ideas, please don't hesitate to comment.

Mysteries aside, let us turn our attention to the known products that make up this carefully curated medley of mirth.

 

1. Blow-up doll 

This is probably the most common inflatable girl, considering it's been in production for nearly half a century. She's inexplicably named Judy and she's often sold alongside her soulmate, John. This model is not anatomically correct, however, that fact doesn't dispel the social stigma placed on Judy owners.

2. Phony Arm Cast (with sling and safety pin for the sling)

The 'phony' genre of gags are typically unable to fool anyone standing closer than ten feet away. But this classic sympathy-getter is surprisingly realistic when worn. Cover it in fake signatures for maximum effect.

3. Think Fat Wall Poster
This reaction to the '80s fitness craze demonstrates the gift shop's role as a cultural first responder.  Trend chasing profiteers brought us everything from Michael Jackson-esque glitter gloves to Beanie Baby preservation devices. Timely or not, it's tough to imagine even one customer compelled to pay for this poster and then hang it up for daily viewing. Maybe the ultra-wacky college student from a Spring Break movie, who already owns the double-can beer helmet, and a closet full of Hawaiian shirts? But the truth is, enough people voted with their dollars to fund a fat joke poster subgenre. And it wasn't just this company, here are a couple others from Western Graphics...

Speaking of poster makers, according to the copyright info, the Think Fat image was bestowed upon us by "Tony Stone Associates." Some ebay research yields a mini portfolio by Stone and company which includes: two bewildered kittens, a cockpit, and a baby sitting among a selection of chamber pots and bed pans. Mind you, all of these are large wall posters intended for home decorating.

4. 'Kiss Me' Inflatable Lips

This misshapen, yet demanding object is the sort of thing that can pass for romantic in the context of a carnival, or a sweaty boardwalk.

5.  Mr. John Fake Urinal

This was produced by Fishlove, Inc. which was one of the top commercial merrymakers in the 1960s and 70s. They were responsible for the classic Chatter Teeth, Whoops fake vomit, jumbo sunglasses, and a ton of box gags. ( I demoed a Fishlove party gag kit a long time ago.)

This item seems like another potential classic, but I suppose few would-be pranksters were willing to risk the messy consequences of it actually fooling someone. (I found this photo on the Fun Incorporated Instagram which does indeed incorporate some fun images.)

6.  Rubber Chicken

Another definitive novelty, and this shop proves their credibility by offering at least three different designs. (This is the one on the left.) Think about that, three different styles of rubber chickens to choose from! That is just unbelievably hardcore. I fancy myself a novelty enthusiast, but this makes me a bit uncomfortable.

7.  Costume Ball and Chain

Even at this place a ball and chain seems like an odd choice for a window piece. There I go again, always underestimating the number of people interested in dressing as the standard black-and-white-striped prisoner. In actuality, it's been a staple for decades. It's half of the old 'cop and crook' couples' theme, plus, a prisoner represents deviance in the most general sense. In fact, the ball and chain is an internationally recognized symbol for captivity even though it hasn't been commonly used for generations! Now I totally get why they put one in the window.

8. Magic Knife

Kicking off a series of "thru head" items is the Magic Knife. The name of the product, the unrestrained graphics, and the chintzy plastic construction blur the lines between illusion, costume accessory, and toy. The blood splattered word "TERRiBLE" is simultaneously appropriate and out of place. The whole thing smacks of cultural illiteracy, which only adds value in my opinion. The Native American artwork may seem odd, but I'm betting that it's an attempt to associate with the better-known Arrow Through Head tradition. One thing is for sure, Knife Thru Head poses a real marketing challenge. Just look at these other designs...

The approach on the bottom right is the most successful in my opinion. The vampire element doesn't make a lot of sense, but the designer prevented the product from obscuring the artwork and the text, and the light gray gravestones are a nice contrast to the black knife, which ensures visibility.

Wow, critiquing decades-old novelty packaging gives me a tremendous rush.

9. Trick Arrow Trough Head

As I said before, this is the most well known of the "through the head" products. It looks to be the earliest incarnation, plus, it was popularized by Steve Martin's stand up comedy act. Martin fans took to wearing them to his shows where he mocked the lesser quality versions. I have a theory that Martin's were custom made from real arrows. This is a thought that puts deep envy in my heart.

 

10. Nail Thru Head 

This one feels like a cash grab following the success of its predecessors. It's also the most unlikely of the bunch considering the scarcity of foot-long spikes in our daily lives. However, I do appreciate the phrase "wonderfully weird 'nut' case."

11. House Rules fake clock

This is probably the uncredited inspiration behind Alan Jackson and Jimmy Buffet's horrible song.

More importantly, it represents one of my favorite forms of novelty: humorous barware from the mid-century. I love the notion of the basement bartender keeping a stockpile of sight gags on hand to keep things lively. There were no bar shelf pictorials in Good Housekeeping, nor was there a "man cave" aisle in Hobby Lobby, and yet people instinctively knew how to decorate this corner of the house. The booze and the decor worked harmoniously to create a casual atmosphere intended to maximize comfort and minimize pretense.

I'd like to take a few moments to celebrate this phenomenon with pictures. Fictional examples can be seen in Edward Scissorhands...

and Mary Tyler Moore...

And here's a real life example that I found on this blog...

This one even has a different version of the clock...

More glorious real life examples courtesy of ebay...

12.  Magnum P.I. Poster

While this bit of pop culture isn't out of place in a gift shop such as this, the choice to put it in the window seems to reflect the taste of the window dresser, especially considering that it's one of two dark-haired, mustachioed hunks on display. (see below)

13. Burt Reynolds Reclining Nude Poster 

This is the poster version of Burt's infamous 1972 photo shoot for Cosmopolitan magazine. It is perhaps the closest thing to a male equivalent of the famous Farrah Fawcett poster from the same era. Burt recently said that he regrets his decision to do it, even speculating that it may have cost him an Oscar for his role in 'Deliverance.' Read the link, he really said that.


Here's the photo again so you don't have to keep scrolling back up...

 

UPDATE:  Magician, Frank Thurston has identified the tasseled banner in the upper right corner!

It looks to be a variation of a racially insensitive bar tapestry featuring an exotic drinker posing the question, "What'll you have?" The figure that appears on the one in the photo looks to be wearing some sort of knee-wear and has a covered torso. It's hard to imagine who else might be included in this bizarre series. (Thanks for the tip Frank!)

 

14. Fake Lobster-

I know I shouldn't question the appeal of novelties, but it's hard for me to understand the endgame here. It's too big and artificial looking to be a dinner table gag. It's not really a toy. My best guess is that it's more of a party decoration, maybe for a luau or ocean themed event. Whatever the use, the demand is real or they wouldn't keep manufacturing this thing decade after decade.

15. Hanging Fuzzy Dice 

Another perennial item, cleverly juxtaposed with the display of regular sized dice in the shop window.

16. Fake Spear

This potential costume accessory doubles as a toy for the kiddies. This type of thing popped up when baby boomers were kids and just never went away. Every souvenir hut seems to have a mini arsenal of 'historic' weapons and regalia. Speaking of which...

17. Confederate Army Costume Hat
Who are the parents that encourage their kids to dress up as the losing team?

 

18. Executive Waste-Basket-Ball

This was produced by Poynter products, another notable player in the novelty game during the golden years. Their most prevalent output (based on Ebay listings) was the Jayne Mansfield water bottle, the go-go dancer drink mixer, and a battery-operated Frankenstein whose pants fall down.

 

I really admirer their product line. It was far more diverse, complex, and imaginative than the competition...

Anyway, I consider the Waste-Basket-Ball a minor classic. How else would movies depict the passage of time for playful people with writers block, or all-night study montages?

19. Sin Glasses-

I wonder which came first, the name or the product? The box design was definitely 'on trend' but the glasses are almost unrecognizable on the model. (Maybe to tone down the bawdiness?) I can sense the optimism behind this one, someone thought it would be the next big thing. Maybe they were ahead of their time because this Youtube video has nearly a quarter million views.

20. Weepy the Wee Wee
Urinating statues have been around since ancient times, but during the last century they finally became portable (and affordable) thanks to the advent of squirt gun mechanics. I'm impressed with the way this figure is designed with careful ambiguity, so as to cater to both young and old, and notice how the genitalia is obscured on the package while still communicating the product's function. But despite so many well-made decisions, I think the name was a big mistake. I was writing a paragraph that explained the problem, and explored possible solutions when I realized that I've already lingered on this way too long.
Believe it or not, this item was in the news earlier this year when a popular gas station attendant was fired after a customer complained that he used a Weepy to spray cleaning fluid on their windshield. The internet was not happy with the decision.

21. Crack Up Golf Ball
I've tested my share of trick balls (billiard, baseball, and golf) and none of them move in squiggly lines like the one shown on this deceptive package.  However, the Crack Up golf balls are made of some compressed powdery stuff that will indeed fly apart when hit hard enough. The down side is that it lacks the shine or markings of a real ball so good luck fooling anyone. I wish I could travel back to 1978 and warn everyone.

22. Happy Mouth Bottle Opener

In the gift biz Jimmy Carter was reduced to his mouth and his love of peanuts pre-presidential role as a peanut farmer, often at the same time. I'm amazed that the makers of Happy Mouth didn't turn the handle into a peanut. I have nothing but respect for their sense of restraint.

23. Gas-Up Pocket Flask Decanter

Produced in 1973, this was undoubtedly inspired by the national oil crisis of the same year. I love that it exists, but it seems so elaborate (even requiring batteries) for such a semi-amusing concept, and the possible payoff seems pretty low. 

Unless you imagine the very best case scenario— It's 1973 and you're a well-liked member of your local lodge. You're deep into the biggest party of the year, the girl has already popped out of the cake, and you walk over to the coat check where you pull this decanter out of your briefcase. You picked it up at your favorite joke shop on the way here. (You're a regular and the owner knows you by name, and gives you discounts.) You got a big bonus this year so the lofty price tag didn't cause you to blink. Also, you remembered to buy batteries. 

You discreetly assemble the whole thing, and fill it with your favorite booze while your friends start to notice your absence. (This group of lugs are the best a guy could ask for, friends til the end.) Thanks to the 'pocket hook' the Gas-Up device fits undetectably inside your jacket. 

Armed for laffs, you head back towards the heart of the shindig trying to conceal a huge grin. Someone has a lampshade on their head, but you know they're about to lose their "life of the party" status. You approach a semi-circle of esteemed brethren that includes: the local mayor, the owner of the new bowling alley, and Telly Savalas. You say, "Can I freshen anyone's drink?"

as you open your jacket. The room is a tinderbox of laughs and you just brought a stick of dynamite. You've ensured your rise to social stardom while lessening gas crisis anxiety. You are an American hero.

But under any other circumstance Gas-Up seems a bit lame.

UPDATE: Here's a very insightful response to this post from Mark Pahlow, founder of Archie McPhee!! Excess at 1980s Gatlinberg gift shows?!! Tales of the Manhattan toy show?! An exclusive peek into the history of the novelty biz?!! It's so great I can't take it!!...

"The time your photo was taken could be as early as late 1970s, because of the Jimmy Carter items being so prominent, or most anytime in the 1980s. There was so much Jimmy Carter junk produced that it was being sold years after he left office.

Carter's run for the White House (a classic move by a governor most of the country never heard of but who had a strong state support group to push him through the various state primaries) was a period full of peanut theme novelties because of his family's long history of peanut farming in Georgia.

As for where it was taken, it might have been in Gatlinburg, TN, at a Smoky Mountain Gift Show.  That small town held a famous trade show for decades, often scattered in the conference rooms of assorted motels there, that was strong on novelties and had national attendance. I remember the local folks being really friendly there. And I remember being scared driving a rental car at night from the airport to Gatlinburg on narrow, two-lane roads. 

We ate lots of chicken fired steak at those shows. There were a lot of characters at that time, with lots of unhealthy food, cigarettes and booze. I loved the small companies making

novelties out of tree stumps, coal, sugar, etc.--lots of small outfits trying to make it in the marketplace.

But I think it is more likely to have been taken in one of the lower rent, lower floors of the 200 Fifth Avenue Toy Center (Building) in Manhattan. I went there for many years, starting in the late 70s. I was a naive kid in the Big Apple, sleeping on the floor of a friend's apartment there because the hotels were so expensive. At the time, New York City was the motherlode for the novelty trade.

The big toy companies like Hasbro and Mattel had large, posh showrooms on the upper floors, that often required an appointment to enter.  The smaller jobbers, importers and old family novelty firms, most of which also had offices and warehouses (yes, at that time Manhattan still had property cheap enough to use for warehousing) nearby, showed there. There were small rooms, often without windows, were jobbers showed goods while chain smoking. 

After I wandered that building, I'd walk to the nearby offices/showrooms of novelty importers to inspect their huge selection of products.

M. Pressner & Co. was a short walk south on Broadway.  I'd walk the showroom aisles with Jerry Pressner and place orders. Pressner carried the popular Sin Glasses that you showed in the photo. Their logo was a crown and the name "Empress" which was on their packages and shipping cartons. 

At that time Pressner still had a small facility in New Jersey that producing US-made plastic toys like Cracker Jack animals, doll accessories and novelty charms and trinkets. It was such lovely stuff!

Also nearby was Nadel & Sons, where I worked with Mel Nadel.  I bought the classic Nail Through Head carded novelty, exactly as shown, from Nadel. And then I 'd see the notorious Nat Shaland at Wm. Shaland Co. There was Louis Greenberg as well.

All of these importers still had old stock novelties and toys that were made in Japan and I bought all I could. It was a transition time for novelty and toy production being moved to Hong Kong and Taiwan.  

I'd sit with these Kings of the Novelty Trade and ask questions and listen to their stories.

World War II was really a challenge for them as all Japanese goods were banned in the US and their warehouses were full of Japanese made goods.  I also learned in the old days a firm selling merchandise could depreciate their product inventory each year, as though it were a fixed asset, which is unbelievable when compared to general accounting principles today. And in the 1950s they faced an income tax rate that was as high as 90%.  

I loved those guys and the amazing products they created and sold.  They were rubber chicken/nail through head swashbuckling marketing pirates and geniuses, who helped teach me the trade and gave me payment terms of net 30 days when I was starting out and had no money. 

This blog post brought back some good memories for me! I miss all those guys & that ephemeral world. I am happy that you, Kirk, are doing the work to capture some history and flavor of these wonderful products and people. I tip my hat to you, buddy!"

Mark Pahlow

ONE AMAZING DAY AT ACCOUTREMENTS / ARCHIE McPHEE HEADQUARTERS

For anyone unfamiliar with Accoutrements or Archie McPhee I have provided a handy study guide.

Accoutrements is a manufacturer of novelties, gifts, and toys that was started as a mail-order business in the 1970s by Mark Pahlow. Initially he sold unusual 'found' products, but today the company has a vast line of original merchandise that's wholesaled to stores everywhere.
  
Archie McPhee, Seattle is essentially the Accoutrements brick and mortar shop which opened in 1983, however they also sell stuff from other manufacturers, as well as some vintage store stock and other curiosities. 

McPhee.com is their online shop, and The Archie McPhee catalog offers direct to consumer mail-order.

To summarize: They make and sell a lot of stuff, in a lot of different ways.

ME AND McPHEE

I collected Accoutrements products for years before I knew the company existed.  It had never occurred to me that one place could be responsible for such an eclectic mix of my possessions. Things like: a leopard skin fez, a potato gun, rubber monster women, boxing puppets, a shrunken head, fake mustaches, monkey drink ornaments, a martian stress reliever, finger puppets, swizzle sticks, wind-up creatures, and a prized glow-in-the-dark figurine named Senor Misterioso.  Maybe it should have been obvious.

Somehow their product line infiltrated my life without any help from my local retailers. Many of which would stock 'fly masks' for horses, but never horse masks for humans. I picked up much of my Accoutrements merch during road trips by way of souvenir shops, hip toy retailers, and costume suppliers. (This has all changed in recent years. At this moment I'm in walking distance from a brand new pair of squirrel underpants.) The other half of my collection was gifted to me, usually for no real occasion aside from "I saw this and immediately thought of you." I've received several items from people that I hardly knew, remote co-workers and friends of friends, acting on a personal calling to unite me with a pocket rubber chicken launcher, for example. Some things are just meant to be together.

Further proving this point, In 2008 an email appeared in my inbox from David Wahl, Accoutrements' longtime "Director of Awesome." He had recently helped create a book about their company called "Who Would Buy This? The Archie McPhee Story," which he offered to me since I'm one of the few other humans to make a book about a novelty company. (I raved about their book here.) We stayed in touch, and before long I was a staff writer for Monkey Goggles, an experimental McPhee offshoot that featured original online content. Eventually I got to know more of the Accoutrements crew in a cyber sense.

A visit to their home offices always seemed imminent, but it took me nearly seven years to get the ball rolling. Once I did, the logistics fell into place effortlessly, from my schedule, to my funding, to my friends' available couches that popped up on the path between me and Mukilteo, Washington. As soon as I left my driveway, speed took over. The trip was one week of constant motion with no resistance, as if I was riding a cosmic people mover. The sense of inevitability was palpable, I could have taken my hands off the wheel and still made it there. Sure, I would have crashed, but the ambulance would have mistakenly delivered me to the Accoutrements headquarters.

ARRIVAL

All of the days, miles and dollars that had gone into my trip made me feel tremendous pressure to make the most of my visit. I didn't just happen to be in the neighborhood, which was twenty-two hundred miles from my own. This was my destination. This was my Wally World, my Wonderland, my Wonka factory, but I only had about seven scant hours to experience everything. I'll go as far as comparing it to my wedding day in that it was another great time that was in constant danger of being crushed by it's own momentousness. These thoughts kicked in the night before my big day as I attempted to fall asleep. The couch I was laying on was in Portland, which meant I needed to leave by six to get there by ten, hypothetically. So I set my alarm to five. I laid awake until one, and my nerves woke me up at four.

I started my car and the gas light flashed orange. My fear of running out escalated for a half hour before I found a station that was both accessible and open so early. The rest of my odyssey could be described as a three hour stress drive through fog with an intermission, courtesy of Seattle's morning rush hour. I took the advice of my dumb GPS and ended up in a semi truck sandwich, plodding through industrial zones. That's where I realized the two bottles of frappuccino were a mistake.

I cackled when the Accoutrements building finally came into view. I was late, and in dire need of a restroom. As I approached the front door I grew surprisingly self-conscious, wondering how my morning tribulation had affected my appearance and demeanor. I glanced down at my Nikes and thought "Wait, isn't Nike based around here? Do these people have strong feelings about Nike?" I opened the glass door, suddenly certain that my shoes were offensive.

Then I saw something in the breezeway that made everything right again...

Prior to this, I had never been publicly welcomed. In that moment I discovered that a 'felt letter board' welcoming can make a guy feel extremely welcomed. Plus it removes all doubt that you're in the wrong building, or on the wrong day. I savored this moment since it is probably the first and last of its kind.

I found the receptionist adjacent to a bank of highly personalized cubicles. I recognized faces from the Archie McPhee catalogs, and blog, and twitter feed, and packaging. One of the employees, "Fuzz," was even made into an action figure.

Most familiar to me was Shana, the "High Priestess of Rubber Chickens" (a.k.a. the lady who runs their retail store.) She had emerged from her office to introduce me to the room, which was just as welcoming as that felt sign had been.

The good vibes in there dispelled any notion that this was just another job to them. They seemed to embrace the fun-maker lifestyle. It was apparent in both attitude and decorating choices which included a giant cactus wearing a panda mask wearing a crown, as well as a poster for the 1970 film, Bigfoot. But was this all just a put-on for the office tour? In an act of investigative journalism, I passed through again later in the day, and snapped this candid scene of playful comradery...

This is exactly what you want to see at a place like this.

After my brief introduction, David Wahl appeared next to me. For the first time ever, we communicated with our voices instead of digital text. Among his first words to me were directions to the restroom. Then David led me to his office where he stood up nice and straight for a photo...

His work space did not disappoint. Surrounding a hub of chairs were an assortment of artifacts that included: a collection of revealing wall art, a life-size skeleton..

celebrity ventriloquist dummies...

A  bookshelf beautifully dressed, and full of titles both familiar and intriguing...

And a standing desk infested with rubber creatures...

I set up camp knowing that my bags would be secure in this sanctuary. It was time for my official tour!

But wait! Lets take a moment to dwell on the significance of what you are about to see. There is no other business or place like this. Their thousands of original creations have achieved cultural relevance without relying on the movies, artists, comics, characters, and properties that overshadow our pop culture. Yet their work shows up all over the internet, in entertainment, and in the news.

They have established new classics. The now iconic Horse Head Mask is the Groucho disguise of today. Accoutrements also keeps our novelty heritage alive by offering many that were orphaned by their original creators such as the rubber chicken, the Martian Popping Thing, and yes, the Groucho disguise.

You are seeing a company in its heyday, as big as its ever been.  Not only that, it's still a first generation run business, so the passion and inspiration is still there. Accoutrements wasn't formed to fill a gap in the market, it exists because the founder loves this stuff. A glance at his personal Twitter account is proof of that. That said, let's get on with the tour...

THE TOUR

The upstairs halls are decked with printed histories of both Accoutrements and McPhee. The walls tell the story of a one-man operation gradually gaining a foothold in the culture. The display traces the catalog's progression from hand-xeroxed, zine-like issues, to today's colorful publication, which looks to be crafted by a large team of beatnik robots. David said, "You can see exactly when Mark first hired a graphic designer."

 

As we continued, David pointed out this Zombies of the Stratosphere poster as if I might have missed it otherwise.

 

This giant eyeball was just one of several jumbo things scattered throughout the building, echoing a philosophy that was mentioned later: make big things small and small things big.

Our next stop was the Archive. A large, orderly, well-lit room full of box-bearing shelves. Hand-written labels tantalized with claims of PUPPET HEADS, KNIVES AND CIGARETTES, VOODOO, COCONUT BRAS, and HALLOWEEN. The room was divided into two sections: an area that held one of every existing Archie McPhee product (!), and another that was reserved for third party samples. 

For most businesses, this level of documentation is unheard of. Nobody has the space, or the desire, or the manpower to do it right. Products are often intended to be as ephemeral as the daily newspaper, so no one expects today's stuff to mean anything tomorrow. The greeting card company I used to work for reluctantly shoveled original art into an overflowing closet, and that was more effort than most places make. I also recalled the S. S. Adams headquarters, and how I found original illustrations that had been reproduced millions of times hidden in filthy boxes tossed behind machinery. But again, more effort than most.

I knew I didn't have much time so I had to be selective. I instinctively went for pranks and spooky themed boxes. My instincts were correct!...

 

 This box was both irresistible...

...and accurate!

 

Not just puppet heads, spooky puppet heads!

 Vomitous!

Nothing was as it seemed, eyeballs were ping-pong balls, bones were really maracas!

 The historic sign from the former Archie McPhee location.

Dummy bombs, medical models and propaganda posters, all in one corner!

 

Our stop in the archive was all too short, but I was promised that we would return, and I promise the same to you.


THE DESIGN DEPARTMENT
In the very heart of the building we found a sanctum of creativity. Four wizards dwell there, endlessly conjuring products, packaging, promotional materials, as well as the web site. Mark has called their line of products "affordable art." These are the artists. (I'm trying to sound epic here, but to be fair, there are a number of others who also contribute artistically.)

The back wall was full of prototypes and sketches of future products, all of which flew straight into my eyes. In the days after my visit I thought of a thousand designer-type questions I wish I would have asked. I was right there, and yet their process is still a mystery to me. I blame it on my fan addled state of mind. Truth is, I was already taking in so much that asking for more would have been sadistic.

Normally these gentlemen spend their days manipulating pixels, but in a twist of irony I captured their likenesses with the pixels of my camera.

 
 Scott King

 
Curt Hanks


 Scott Heffernan


Jim Koch

Jim's work has also made it into my collection by way of the Circus Punks series he released a while back. He shows as much decorating restraint as I do, so I've provided a closer look at his stuff for the benefit of everyone...
 



There's a great article on these guys HERE.
 

THE DISTRIBUTION CENTER

Endless pallets of boxes may not pack much entertainment value, but they say a lot about the scope of the company. The warehouse is vast, much larger than I ever anticipated. It was fun to think about the concentration of wacky products in this space. How many yodelling pickles have made a pit stop here before scattering across the nation?

Bulk product storage goes over here...

Individual items are within reach here...

Your order is lovingly packed here...

 

Even in this utilitarian space the mirth cannot be contained. Again, this is exactly what you want to see at a place like this.

Fez appliques, the ultimate form of self-expression. 

Naturally, their products are utilized in-house. Being resourceful is rarely this much fun.

FROM ADAMS TO ACCOUTREMENTS

Here is why my perspective on all of this is pretty unique. Almost exactly ten years prior to my Washington trip, I traveled to the opposite side of the the nation to Asbury Park, New Jersey, where I was turned loose in the S.S. Adams prank and magic factory to archive material for a book celebrating the company's centennial anniversary. So I couldn't help but see everything at Accoutrements in the context of the history of the American novelty biz.

Adams was among the first American companies to go beyond simply importing novelty items; they invented their own goods. They established a new canon of trick products with: Sneezing Powder, the Snake Nut Can, the Dribble Glass, and the Joy Buzzer. In terms of quality, Adams initially set the bar pretty high. For instance, the Super Joy Buzzer was a marvel of German engineering.

The way I see it, Adams ignited a torch a century ago that is currently held by Accoutrements, though few of their products are designed to deceive. Accoutrements has returned to Adams' early philosophy: make products that are high in both originality and quality. They also uphold the principle of novelty for novelty's sake in a world where joke and magic shops are all but gone, in favor of costume shops and party stores. The notion that an occasion is necessary to buy something fun is appalling. Fact is, Mark Pahlow doesn't embrace the term "novelty" due to its association with cheap little junk. He has described their offerings as "a vast array of spectacular, eclectic, useless things." Speaking of Mark...

THE BOSS'S OFFICE

After our warm-up round through the building it was time to meet Mark. We entered his office which seemed to be a metaphor for the entire operation. There was lots of fun stuff, but it was dominated by the necessity of business. My nerves returned to muddle our introduction, but David took the pressure off by pointing out some of the many conversation pieces, and I started noticing more treasures in every nook.

I asked Mark if I could photograph his work space. He replied,

"You want to take pictures of my mess?...Go ahead!"
You bet I wanted to. I also wish someone would have taken pictures of S.S. Adams' mess.

Anyway, here it is...

Mark dug out a couple of choice items for us to admire and laugh at.

One was a fake cigar from the World War II era that concealed an American flag fan. I can't imagine a situation when this would be necessary, but that can be the sign of a great novelty.



We also examined a set of party enhancers that looked to be from the 1940s. Evidently, it was a time when Victorian-era photographs were real party savers.

We set out on phase two of my tour which took us past this impressive display of current products. A world where Shakespeare, Poe, and Freud are at home next to Bigfoot, and underwear for your hands.

Discarded signage was put to decorative use in this hallway.

A customized smock that was once worn at trade shows...

...hangs on a trinketed plaque awarded to Mark by "the staff." (Yes, 'trinketed' is a real word.)

We stumbled on a true "only in the novelty biz" moment when we rounded the corner to find a mini horde of battery operated zombies lurking in the middle of the floor. As it turned out, the inventory was being tested after a consumer complaint. The alleged faulty zombie was an isolated incident.

BACK TO THE ARCHIVE

Our second visit was a bit more leisurely and had the added bonus of Mark's commentary. He explained the origin of the samples, which are products that may have been considered for the catalog in some form, or served as a springboard for other ideas. This collection is the result of numerous trips overseas where Mark ended up seated at tables where vendor after potential vendor marched into the room and dumped their product in piles before him. As much as I revere novelties, I love the idea of this stuff being manhandled like any other commodity, be it coal or pork bellies. I romantically envision smokey rooms and a parade of stoic-faced peddlers slinging around heavy sacks of nonsense, presenting their wares to the buyer like a plastic harem. Then Mark fills suitcases with his kingly treasures, and carries the bounty back to his homeland.

Chinese plastic trinkets have long represented the lowest depths of the industrial food chain. It's a world where the knock-offs get knocked-off, a world of euphemistic artwork by anonymous artists that is reproduced and re-purposed for decades, a world of baffling design choices, and a delightful mishandling of the English language. The long-running products use cheaper materials with each generation until they're nearly unrecognizable. Mark said this phenomenon is called "quality fade." Hearing this was immensely satisfying because it's something I've often observed but never had words for.

The boxes in the Archive don't seem to date very far into the twenty-first century because the sales process usually happens digitally nowadays. This collection chronicles a very specific, very mysterious slice of industrial culture at the end of the analog age, and that is what makes it so important. Tell me, where does another collection like it exist? No, really, please tell me because I want to see that one too. I truly could have spent the entire day in there, systematically opening and documenting every parcel.

Simply opening a box like the one pictured below is rewarding enough, but it's the behind-the-scenes obscurity that made it extra-thrilling. I didn't see anything in these boxes that I've seen on store shelves or on ebay. Sure, I've seen tongue appliances before, but never this Comic Tongue with its unique style of "FUN!"

The photos on the "Joke & Funny game set" feature items that are not in the set. Also, it's not a game. This is the careless confidence that I love.

I adore little generic creatures. Granted, they look better when they're not encased in cellophane.

To quote from Who Would Buy This? The Archie McPhee story,
"If it's hollow and made of soft, pliable rubber, just slap the word "squirt" onto the name and you've doubled its value."

Mark was saying something about these soldiers, but sadly, I cannot remember what. I really should have had a video camera.

Mark contemplated the unpredictable nature of tiki products. Some are extremely successful. Many are not.



Believe it or not, these are elements of early Archie McPhee catalogs that Mark used to produce by hand. I love that a skull keychain photo is visible.

 (I found a color picture of it on ebay...)

Farewell sweet archive. I left with so many boxes unopened, and so many delights unseen.

LUNCH TIME
Moments after Mark, David, Shana and I were seated in a Japanese restaurant, I experienced something for the very first time— I was asked about my visit to the S.S. Adams headquarters. Now, I've dumped my unsolicited Adams stories on many a captive ear, but this was different. This time my tales could be appreciated without explanations and backstories. This was a fantasy scenario for me. There I was, power lunching with novelty execs, recounting my escapades as they clung to every word, even laughing at appropriate times. It's what my life could be like if I understood politics or sports.

AFTERNOON

After lunch I had some time to roam the building freely so I ended up in Shana's office. Because she heads up the retail shop, her work space has quite a few non-Accoutrements items including these two 60s-era masks that, as she explained, resemble her parents.

I was also able to get a better look at some of their corporate art, which happens to be radically anti-corporate. There were several hand-painted, possibly unofficial movie posters. Ghana is known for this phenomenon, though I'm not sure about the origin of these. I believe Willow put it best when he said, "You ARE great."

 

An artist's rendering of what the land of McPhee might look like, circa several years ago. I agree with the emphasis on the Martian Popping Thing, however I've always viewed Pee Guy as being more peripheral...

The break room is everything it should be. This giant burger painting is about four feet wide and absolutely beautiful if you don't look at that bumpy green part.

And there's this thing, for crying out loud...

THE CREATIVE MEETING

Later in the afternoon a creative meeting was held. It was partly an exhibition for my benefit, but I think actual business took place. I was even invited to participate, though I feared my contribution would be as valuable as a contestant who had won a walk-on role in a movie.

I was among the first to show up, which gave me a chance to look around the room and ponder the many brainchildren that were birthed on this very table.



A lineup of multicolored skulls oversees every conference.

The room filled up with the four artists and my lunchtime companions, Shana, Mark, and David. Somebody dumped a variety of rubber noses in the middle of the table. The samples were examined, tried on, laughed at, discussed, and a verdict was swiftly agreed upon. The meeting had begun. This was exactly what I was hoping for.

I immediately noticed the absence of a Marketing rep per se.  This was a revelation. Where I come from the Marketing Department drives this type of meeting. The outcome would be distilled into instructions for the designers to follow. At Accoutrements it seems that the creatives make marketing decisions, rather than the common opposite.

Everyone seemed to be somewhat aware of past sales data. Success stories that were mentioned included: Crazy Cat Lady items, zombies, and products that use the word 'emergency' (i.e. Emergency Toast). Items that are proven lousy sellers include every one of my favorite products. Somehow I am the Bizarro Archie McPhee consumer.

The meeting consisted of a handful of updates on upcoming items followed by a chance for each attendee to voice new ideas. The second half of the hour was spent sifting through a backlog of potentially inspirational images, articles, trends, and products from around the web, and elsewhere.
Wild ideas were held under the lens of practicality. It was a reminder of the reality that I, the fun-loving collector, have the luxury of ignoring. Throughout the day our conversations were peppered with bits of sobering realism in the form of legality, finances, customs, government regulations, rip-off artists, and jerks in general. Yet, somehow everyone still seemed to be having their share of fun.

I know that pressure to succeed can take a toll on creativity, so I asked how much freedom they have to fail. The response was that, obviously, they can only fail so much before they lose their livelihood. However, they still take chances. Their catalog is a testament to this fact.

On occasion, they've even moved forward on a product that was expected to fail. David brought up the Kim Jong Il 'Dear Leader Tongue Scraper,' a seemingly misguided concept they were so intent on bringing to life that they agreed to make it happen in the name of art. (In fact, it wasn't a failure in the long run.)

As the meeting came to a close I said what I thought would be my final thank yous and farewells, but before we disbanded Mark casually asked me if I'd like to see—Room 6. I don't remember exactly how I responded, as I was filled with shock and adrenaline. Room 6 is also known as the Archie McPhee Secret Museum. It's Mark's stash of handpicked treasures that have accumulated throughout his career. Occasionally these prizes will appear in Mark's twitter feed, and they always merit a click of the 'favorite' button. I was not expecting to see Room 6 because it had been made clear that it's simply not part of the tour.

ROOM 6
I was led to a locked door wisely located deep in the structure. Inside were clusters of shelves and stacks of boxes that ate up the room's square footage minus a narrow pathway. The boxes were labeled, but less orderly than the Archive had been. Many were too high to reach, or inaccessible without solving some spatial puzzles. The parcels blotted much of the lighting. All of these factors gave the place a welcome aura of mystery.

 

We began to dig. We independently rifled through the dusty containers, pausing to show our favorite finds to one another. Here are a few of my favorites. In hindsight I realize that these mostly monster-centric picks don't come close to representing the scope of all that was in there, but oh, well...

60s-era rubber monster

Trinkets as an artistic medium was a reoccurring theme. This is the next step in the evolution of Bedazzling.

Perfection...

These things are about hand puppet size. The sculpts are amazing...

A sack of teeth...

This was in a box labeled "Halloween Keep." I couldn't get the lid off fast enough in order to see which Halloween objects had been deemed worthy of keeping. The Halloween Team Fantasy Collection met all my expectations. One of the features is "Horrible "EEEE" sound." (Don't bother checking ebay, I have been for months.)

These were just sitting in a box rather than being pictured on the internet where they belong...

After a while I noticed that our chatter had completely stopped. I was so focused and curious that I'd forgotten where I was. Everyone seemed to be in a zen-like state. It was a time of quiet exploration that was only interrupted by occasional gasps and the clicking of digital cameras. Even Mark seemed to be making new discoveries. 

I was allowed to open baggies that had been stapled shut since the 1960s. It felt like I was one of the family.

Some of my favorite boxes were the ones that started with the word 'tiny.' Tiny people, tiny things, and so on.

I fished out a dime-sized monkey eraser that whisked me to my childhood, to a car ride home from Tulsa after dad and I had dropped mom off at the airport. I sat in what was usually her seat, holding this fruit-scented rubber head, a newly won Ski-ball reward from Crystal's Pizza. I studied its face in the blue-green dashboard light while one of the few songs I was familiar with, For Your Eyes Only, played softly on an Easy Listening station. It was a peace-defining moment that I've fondly recalled many times, however, I wasn't prepared to have a mini catharsis there in Room 6. But really, wonders and revelations are to be expected in a secret museum.

WINDING DOWN
After the Room 6 experience I plopped down in the graphics department where I tried to carry on conversations as if I wasn't overloaded with the day's sights, experiences, information, and feelings.

I glanced over to see that I was sitting near one of my favorite discontinued products, the Bibo alarm clock. The sight of him was appropriate, like something in a fever dream...

 

Then there were a few more of those 'this is exactly what you hoped to see' moments. 

I learned the sordid history behind a decades-old series of familiar rubber novelties (NOT created by McPhee). They were once intended to represent ethnic stereotypes!...

Then Curt showed us one of his recent creations, a set of Slurpee-style plastic cups he designed for SARLACC featuring some of the early Kenner Star Wars toys. These stirred up some excitement that I didn't know I had left.

5 O'CLOCK
As the Accoutrements workforce were wrapping up another day in the life, I was treated to one last Willy Wonka moment, a visit to the product samples area— as in "free samples."

I stood between two lengthy aisles containing nearly every current Archie McPhee item.

I was handed a cloth sack.

I knew that this moment held tremendous weight. It was one of life's touchstones. It could only be a divine test, perfectly designed to measure my capacity for greed versus self-control. I perused the shelves, trying to hide my inner war where animal-like desires clashed with reason and social norms.

Somehow I managed to think of my family first. I found a few key items that would bring delight to my son and make the days-long drive home more bearable for all. I packed a Harry Houdini action figure, a Handicorn, Finger Hands, and some wind-up hopping Lederhosen. I also grabbed a yodeling pickle, something my son has wanted for years, but for sanity's sake I withheld it until we were nearly home.  All of this worked beautifully. The next few days were filled with scenes like this...

And I'm still finding this sort of thing around the house...

Back in the sample aisle, David handed me the thing I was most excited to find. A set of miniature, glow-in-the-dark Halloween decorations!...

Then I gasped when I saw the long-discontinued Frogmen Vs. Radioactive Octopus set. It was just the right thing, something I've wanted, yet isn't easily found this side of ebay. 

I had done it. I had restrained myself. The gifts, decorations, and frogmen were more than enough, and within the bounds of reason. As we were walking out I grabbed a Bigfoot Christmas ornament.

Here's a shot of my prized souvenirs that also includes some squished pennies, stickers, some stuff from Casa Bonita in Denver, a thimble from Multnomah Falls, a breakdancer that Shana gave me, Monster holiday wrapping paper, and a drawing of a disembodied thumb that Jim Koch whipped up during our meeting.

Dazed, I found myself in my car again, driving back towards reality. I turned off the stereo and let my brain cool down. The bag of goodies sitting next to me was assurance that I didn't dream the whole thing. I spent much of the next two thousand miles mulling over my experience, jotting down notes, spontaneously smiling, and occasionally cringing at some of my own banter. It was as epic as I had hoped. Though it came and went all too fast, I will always have the memories...