THE LOST ROAD TRIPS: PART II- NEW JERSEY VIA OHIO

A few years ago I traveled to New Jersey with my friend Scott for two reasons. The first was to take part in the Toyman toy show in St. Louis where Scott was a vendor. The second was the chance to possibly appear on a TV show. I signed a thing saying I wouldn't discuss details about the show appearance online, so I'll continue to not discuss it. Technically there's nothing to discuss because the segment never aired. They never said why, but I assume it's because I somehow ruined it, even though I was just standing in the background.

Toyman is the best toy show I've ever been to. I haven't done the major ones like the Chicago Toy Show, but I've been to dozens of cons and fests all over the nation, and I loved how focused this one was. There were no panel discussions to distract you from that sweet vendor floor, and for the most part the content was vintage, as opposed to new products based on vintage properties which dominate most pop culture events. Toyman happens eight times a year so it fosters a strong community of vendors, most of whom posses superhuman table-curating powers.

The only downside is going when you're on a tight budget. The freelance life is said to be "feast or famine," and I wasn't feasting at the time. I spent less than thirty bucks, but my biggest triumph was a trade. I found some little MPC monsters for less than a dollar each, and when I showed them to my favorite toy vendor, he informed me that they were a super rare vending-size variant. I swapped two for a "Warrior Beast" Skullman (with repro cape, but original knife), and a purple version of a "Dragonriders of the Styx" shirtless demon.

The second, much longer leg of the trip took us through Ohio. Alarms went off in my brain reminding me about a store, somewhere in the state, that several internet friends have gone out of their way to email me about. A google search brought up Foy's Halloween stores in Fairborn, Ohio. It was on the way, AND in the perfect spot for an overnight stay!

It was late on a Sunday night when we pulled into town. The GPS led us to a spacious Main Street that was covered in neon— and skeletons! It felt like something out of an urban myth, a downtown that's decorated for Halloween year round. We were the only living beings in sight which added to the dreaminess of the moment. Instantly recharged, we hopped out to take some pics...

 



When morning finally arrived, the thought of that street being open got me out of bed quicker than usual. Daylight revealed a wonderland...



The Foy's empire is comprised of six different storefronts spread across two blocks. The main concentration includes an authentic dime store, a diner, a Halloween shop, a kids' costume shop, and a haunted house supply store! The grown-ups costume shop is isolated from the rest, but that's okay because it's right next to a row of book, collectible, and toy shops.

That street is almost exactly what I'd describe in a "what if" conversation...
"What business would I open, if I could open anything? That's easy, a classic dime store full of toys, magic tricks, pranks, and candy. Wait..no! I'd sell spooky stuff too, year round! Wait, why just the one store? I'd take up the whole block, and it would have a Halloween shop... and a haunted house shop... and a diner..."
 
According to this article the head of the operation is Mike Foy, a third generation business owner. The five and dime was first to open in 1929, by his grandpa. Mike seems to be responsible for spooking up the enterprise.
 


The mind-blowing visit was clouded with a longing that still lingers. Since we were there on a Monday morning in the off-season, out of all the places I listed only the dime store and the costume shop were open. They were great (the dime store was phenomenal), but these photos make me feel like a ghost with unfinished business. Somehow, I must return to haunt this street again.

But here's some of what I did see.
The costume shop was packed with all the familiar bagged costumes and loads of accessories. What made it stand out were the displays around the parameter of the ceiling...

  
 
 
 
 
 

 
The variety shop is the heart of the enterprise.




The signage was a symphonic medley of metal, vinyl, neon tubing, and hand-painted wood.




I walked in and my eyes climbed a central tower of magnificent objects. The base was a display of bulk candy beneath a bay of security monitors, topped with the biggest advertisement for Don Post masks I've ever seen.



I immediately thought of the movie  Halloween III, and then moments later the masks from the film were staring back at me, right next to an astounding selection of Michael Myers heads.
Imagine popping in to grab a Myers mask before a party and being confronted with this decision. It's like hash brown styles at Waffle House. Do you want your mask: chopped, smooth, bleeding, chunky, or covered in hair?

 

(The one on the top row with the milk jug lid showing deserves its own film franchise.)

I didn't pay attention to the price range, but some look like they could cause you to miss a car payment, while the model in the top right could have been used as packing material for the rest.

Tough choice? How about one of our dozen Jasons?
We apologize for only offering eight different Freddy Kruegers. But this is just the general store. Check out our Halloween shop for the real selection.

This was all behind a glass display that ran the length of the building. The content segued seamlessly from costumes to ninja weapons to magic tricks and so on. It's hard to see, but there's a full spinner rack of pranks stuck right on top. There were also plenty of over-the-counter novelties like alien putty and whoopee cushions.





The magic items are behind a sliding glass door. (Just as they should be!) The assortment covers all different manufacturers and decades. The handmade starburst sign with the word "magic" gives me chills. That Phony Burger behind it is from the 1960s...



Near the front door, morning-fresh popcorn warmed under an electric bulb. A container of cold fruit flavored juice was available at the legacy price of twenty-five cents. This was my breakfast.



Another bank of candy concealed a more practical aisle of tourist-wear and office supplies. The concentration of merchandise had a soothing effect on me, like swaddling on a colicky baby.

Beneath the selection of souvenirs was a shelf where you could force your hand into various containers of rubber trinkets and squish them all at once.

Not enough places sell rubber bats by the piece for fifty cents.
I was profoundly impressed that they offered so many subtle variations of skeletons. My skeleton collection grew that day.

A mini shrine to the founder was taped on a massive case of bulk jelly beans.
If my loved ones are reading this, I'd be more than honored to receive the same treatment in lieu of a traditional grave.

Another day on the road took us to Red Bank, New Jersey, where Scott had set up a big toy purchase from "popculturist guru" Rob Bruce (seen pointing at me below.)

  

We didn't visit his main stockpile of toys, but we did get to see his hallowed office! With his blessing, here are some photos (a bit blurry due to the pounding of my pulse.)

Rob's fascination at the time was limited edition art toys and vintage bootlegs (i.e. the spider-men seen below), an inevitable choice for anyone who has possessed every mass produced toy in existence.

Rob took us to his usual lunching spot which had the healthiest food I've ever shared a room with. He talked about the envy-inducing collector culture in the northeast, and he told us about the time he got to go on tour with the Ramones.

At his recommendation we traveled to a shop in Asbury Park called Groovy Graveyard.

 

 

The shop was more proof that the northeastern United States has a perfect storm of the elements needed to create a collectors' wonderland:
-A high population
Generations of stuff-buying families who have stayed in the region.
-A concentration of resources
Disposable income, frivolous spenders, questionable purchases by both the normal and the weirdos.
-People with diverse tastes
People from different backgrounds, cultures, educations and belief systems who bought Jazz, Punk, Hip Hop, and obscure film scores. Independent, Horror, and Documentary films once watched by historians, geeks, and cinephiles. Now they're done with it, and it's our job to preserve and archive it all.
-Basements
These are not a given where I live. I've heard that it has something to do with the frostline up north, or it's too damp here, or the ground is too hard. Whatever the reason, much of the country lacks what is both a storage space, and a breeding ground for cultural study, and comic reading, and roll playing games, and hiding from social situations.

Asbury Park will always have a layer of magic on it for me because it was home to the beloved S.S. Adams Prank and Magic company. Strangers have sent me emails over the years updating me on the state of the building (and its transition into condominiums). This was my chance to check up on it and pay my final respects. There was little remaining evidence that this was the world's premier novelty company for nearly a century.



 


I've been enticed by the Silverball Museum and arcade for years because it's often mentioned on a live-streaming podcast called "The Best Show with Tom Scharpling." My day in Asbury Park was my big chance to finally experience it. It was exactly as great as I expected it to be. Aisles of beautiful and functioning pinball machines awaited. Getting photos of them without players took precision timing...

 

 

The next day we visited Jay and Silent Bob's Secret Stash comic shop. 

It functions as both a store and a studio for the show "Comic Book Men" on AMC. So there's more elbow room than many comic shops, and as you can see the lighting is heavy duty. (The thing on the left is a prop from the Kevin Smith movie "Tusk.")

Most of the products were new comic books, but they did have a display case of View Askewniverse memorabilia. Speaking of which, we did run into Brian O'Halloran who played Dante in Clerks (1994). On the way there I had thought, "Hey, what if we ran into someone from a Kevin Smith movie?" followed immediately by "That's ridiculous, what am I thinking? Why would they even be there?" and yet, there he was.



There was also a moment when one of the "Comic Book Men," Bryan Johnson, and I were the only two people in a room. Brian dropped a Gatorade and it rolled toward me, but stopped about eight feet from where I was sitting. Part of me thought that maybe I should pick it up and hand back to him, but again, it felt like a long way. I was frozen with this dilemma while he chased down the bottle muttering "For f***'s sake." as I sat and watched awkwardly. We never said a word to each other.

Here are a few more places I saw in the Garden State...

 

  

On the way home there was an excellent tribute to the Pennsylvania Turnpike at one of the rest stops. (Pennsylvania has the best rest stops.) The glassed-in shelf was full of vintage souvenirs...

 

We stayed with a friend in Nashville who showed us the sights.We went to the tourist row of shops and bars. Many people wore boots, but I suspect very few were cowboys or cowgirls.

The Ernest Tubb Record shop was full of history, but their music supplies were low. (Those white things in the mostly empty racks on the right was their CD selection.) They were ripe for the vinyl comeback and I hope they've embraced it since my visit.

 

I got to take a peek at Hatch Show Print design shop, which is a graphic designers' destination in itself... 

We went to yet another store that's supported by a reality TV show. Antique Archaeology is where some of the loot from "American Pickers" ends up.

The selection is amazing, but it's not a place for bargain shopping.

 

 

   

This concludes my eastern tour of "rooms full of stuff." More lost road trips to come!