DIA Space Gun (Unknown / late 1950s? / Japan / 3 x 4 inches)

The very best tin lithographed space guns were the ones that used the toy's body as canvases for miniature works of science fiction art. I've always thought that this double-barreled holdout pistol was one of the coolest.



There's not a whole lot known about this little guy. It's a cap gun, and it was made by DIA an unknown company in Japan sometime around the late 1950s. The toy has embossed features, brightly colored and imaginative lithography, and, well, that's pretty much it.

But hey, how much more do you need?



The mechanism's fairly simple: The small latch on the left side of the toy releases the barrel, which flips forward. A roll of caps is inserted and the gun's ready to blast the enemy. It uses a standard roll of paper caps.



This is a pretty rare gun, especially in decent condition. And while mine has a few scratches and rough patches, I'm just happy to own one at all. There's no special story behind how I got it -- eBay provides, you know? I definitely felt good adding it to my shelf, though.

R-35 Robot (Linemar/Masudaya / 1955 / Japan / 7.5 inches)

Back in the day, toy robots had style. Take, for example, the R-35, a personable little fellow with funky, bulging eyes; a dapper cap; and artfully applied lithographed gears and doo-dads. He's a far cry from today's robots, which often seem to substitute hulking menace for clever design, and imposing weaponry for charming personality.

The R-35, which gets his name from a label lithoed onto his back, abandoned some of the boxy, blocky elements that defined his cousins and replaced them with circles and cylinders. There's a great attention to detail, from those eyes -- which have their blue dot painted on the inside of the glass bulb -- to the strange, tubular ears to the piece of lithoed tin that serves as a mouth. It's definitely a robot that stands out from the pack. The blue and silver finish, which on the head has a bit of a hammer tone to it, doesn't hurt either.

The toy is one of the earlier, battery operated tin robots. In action, it ambles forward and backwards using a pin-walking mechanism, while his arms swing and his eyes light up. Fairly run-of-the-mill for toys from this period, but that doesn't make it any less fun. The robot's controlled by one of the nicest battery packs in the hobby. Whimsical graphics offset the industrial design, making this battery box as fun to display as the robot itself.

When I began collecting, the R-35 was fairly easy to find. It'd pop up on eBay all the time, and often, collectors could choose from two or three ending in a given week. The number of toys floating around today are testament to the R-35's original popularity -- and the fact that so many continue to work speaks to the quality of the Japanese construction.

Anyway, despite the plethora of available robots, I held off on buying one. I'm glad I waited, because eventually my friend Donald Conner -- who I've written about here -- turned me on to a mint-in-box example with a buy-it-now of only a bit more than the toy usually got when selling loose. Now, I'm not one to generally collect boxes, so I ended up selling this one for pretty much what I paid in the first place -- making the robot itself nearly free. I loved the box, and it was sort of a shame that I had to sell it, but the technique of selling off boxes has allowed me to afford many of the robots in my collection. It's about defining priorities, I guess.

Lately, R-35s have become a little less common. They still appear on eBay and dealers' web pages, but not with the frequency that I remember from a few years ago. I wouldn't go so far as to call the toy rare, but the drop is definitely noticeable.

Not much else to say about this great little toy. He's worth adding to any collection, I think -- a fun toy that looks great, too. What's not to love?

Atom Robot (Yoshiya / 1964 / Japan / 6.5 inches)

Digging way back into the early days of my collection again for this next entry. Atom Robot was either the second or third robot I ever purchased; it's a little tough to tell, because I won my first three vintage robots on the same day, and this was either the second or third to show up in the mail.

I love this toy. I remember when I first saw it on eBay. I didn't really have any great robot books at the time, and didn't know much about it. I agonized for a few days, unsure about whether or not I wanted to risk my limited funds on it. Like I said, two other robots had caught my eye, one of which was very much a first-love kind of piece. But something about the Atom Robot kept calling my name... Then a large freelance check rolled in and suddenly I decided to do something rash: Bid on all three toys! It's a story I've told before: See here and here. Spoiler alert: I won all three.

It's the smallest of the skirted robots, but apparently, no one told its designers because they crammed in enough intricate lithography to fill a robot twice its size. Front, back, sides -- beautiful graphics are everywhere.

Perhaps even more impressive are all the details stamped into the tin itself. Japanese craftsman -- masters in their field -- managed to give Atom Robot complex angles and raised rivets all over its body. Getting that sharp an impression from that small a piece of tin without distortion -- or ruining the litho, which was laid down prior to stamping -- is mind boggling.

So many of the lithoed details are also stamped into the toy's tin.

As if that weren't enough, the toy designers took the time to add separate pieces of trim, those neat ear pieces, textured arms, and that amazing face -- which features a separate nose/mouth plate and those reflective greenish-yellow eyes. Expressive!

The robot's "ears" are part of the head trim.

All the details on the arms are raised as well as lithographed!

Note all the different components that make up the face and head. I particularly like the reflective elements in the eyes.

For all the complex details, the Atom Robot is a surprisingly simple toy. It features fly-wheel powered bump-and-go action that's powered by a small crank. The arms swing freely as he rolls around.

The Atom Robot isn't rare, making it a fairly easy and relatively inexpensive toy for collectors to add to their shelves. It can be found in three versions: Green eyes, red eyes, and red eyes/red litho mouth. Personally, I like the green eyed version the best -- the color really pops amidst all the red litho.

This toy has followed me for many years and through many moves. Since getting it, my collection has grown considerably, and some mighty rare and impressive 'bots have joined it on my shelves. But to this day, it's still a robot that draws my eye and makes me smile.

Ratchet Robot (Nomura / 1956 / Japan / 7.5 inches)

There's something very functional about Ratchet Robot. He's got that tool clutched in his right hand, and that's certainly the sign of a can-do kind of guy. But the primitive, boxy design and industrial colors declare this a robot ready to work. A robot that knows the ins and outs of a rocket ship and knows how to take us to the stars. A robot that can keep the machines of humanity humming as we blast forth into the future!

But at the same time, there's something about the expression on his face... it's blank but still somehow conveys so much personality. Maybe it's the big round eyes or something, but I always feel like when I look at this robot, he's looking right back and wondering what makes me tick. 

The Ratchet Robot is a fairly straight-forward toy. Wind him up and he walks while sparks flash in his chest and behind his eyes. He's actually related to a longer line of battery-operated robots created by Nomura called Zoomer and Radar. While those toys come in a dizzying variety of colors, there was only one Ratchet Robot: blue.

I always knew I'd own this toy. It's relatively inexpensive and pretty common in good condition. Consequently, Ratchet's a great gateway drug toy for up-and-coming collectors.

Hook Robot (Waco / 1950s / Japan / 7.5 inches)

Back from a few days off; these summer weekends, man, they really knock you for a loop. To make up for it, though, I've got a doozy of a toy: The legendary Hook Robot.

The Hook gets its name from its oddly shaped antenna; officially, the toy's called "Robot," a boring appellation that never stood much chance of surviving. The toy is the second smallest skirted robot, and definitely one of the simplest. It's powered by friction -- roll it along the ground to rev it up, then let it go. It moves forward while its head turns side to side. It's a nice little action; combined with its expressive face, it gives the robot a semblance of sentience. 

The Hook Robot's back litho panel.

The Hook is definitely one of the most eye-catching of all the robots. That detailed face; the intricate litho; the primitive, boxy design; the bright colors -- they all make for a classic toy that stands out on a shelf. Unfortunately, it also makes for a desirable toy. Combined with the it's scarcity -- believe me, this is one rare robot -- and you've got the kind of explosive situation that'll blow your wallet to smithereens. 

Consequently, this isn't a toy I ever thought I'd own. 

But as so often happens in the world of collecting, I got lucky. One appeared on eBay just after I'd sold a bunch of robots, including an uncommon, dead-mint Rocket Man (Alps, 1960s). I had a war chest, but generally speaking, not the kind of war chest that could help me score a Hook. So what happened?

It's pretty clear from the photos that my Hook isn't in mint condition. It's got scratches, some scuffing to the litho, play wear -- the kind of "damage" that results from age. It's common enough on these old toys and, depending on the toy's scarcity, is generally forgivable. By me, anyway. However, they're just the sort of condition issues that prevent high-end collectors from paying top-dollar for a toy. 

In many cases, a toy robot will lose the most monetary value in those first, tentative steps away from mint condition. A buyer willing to pay, say, $4000 for a mint toy will often pay much less than that for the same toy if it has just a bit of wear to it. While most people would assume that small condition issues would result in only a small drop in price, the reality is that a buyer could easily save up that additional chunk of cash and just get a mint robot. No, in order to entice that buyer, the seller might have to drop his $4000 toy down to $3000... and possibly even less. At that point, the savings might be great enough for the buyer to purchase the robot. 

And that, friends, is exactly what happened with my Hook. I know a number of collectors -- well heeled collectors -- who don't have one. They've got everything else, it sometimes seems, but they don't have a Hook. And they passed on this particular example because of its condition. They know that when a mint one comes up, they'll be able to afford it. They'd rather wait -- a smart approach to collecting, I might add, if you can afford to play that way. 

Ultimately, this clears the road for collectors like myself, collectors who are willing to balance the issue of condition with those of price, scarcity, and desirability. In this case, I decided that the toy looked fine enough to me, and that I'd never have another chance at owning one. Not without selling off my extra organs or taking up a new trade -- like gun running. So I placed a bid. Lo and behold, I won the auction. Not only that, a number of collectors estimated that I'd have to pay at least $50 more than the hammer price. So yeah, score one for me!

(I should point out that a year or so later, another Hook made an appearance on eBay that sold for a bit less than mine. Of course, it was missing its head, so I'm not sure it was really much of a deal...)

888 Gun (Unknown / 1950s / Japan / 2.5 x 3 inches)

While America and various European countries were producing a rainbow of plastic ray guns, Japan's toy companies focused on creating their weapons out of tin. Because the stamping process doesn't allow for complex cuts, rings, or swirls, most of these toys were more simply designed than their Western counterparts. However, the Japanese had perfected the art of lithography, and they chose to use the ray guns as mini canvases, literally covering them in rockets, space men, galaxies, and anything else the designers could think of. Often these were combined with embossing techniques that resulted in toys that, like the 888 gun, were nothing short of beautiful.

The 888, a simple cap gun, remains a particularly uncommon toy. I consider myself lucky to own one, and in fact, it stands today as one of my best pick ups. I found it at an antique gallery down in Pennsylvania, and when I checked the price tag, I was astonished to find the seller wanted about an eighth of what it's typically worth. I put on my best poker face and carried the toy to the cashier, which is when I got my second surprise: Due to an ongoing sale, the toy was marked down another 10 percent! I didn't ask any questions, just forced my face into an even greater study in nonchalance, paid the nice woman behind the counter, and then beat the hell out of there before I lost control and started skipping around the store. 

That same day, I also managed to pick up another fantastic ray gun -- which I'll discuss later -- and a number of rare, vintage paperbacks. Yeah, those are the kind of antique crawls that you remember... 

Television Spaceman (Alps / 1961 / Japan / 13 inches)

When I first became interested in vintage robots, one toy kept catching my eye: The Television Spaceman. With its purple-tinted visor, those weird, golden, bulging eyes, a myriad of flashing lights, and that fantastic TV in its chest, I could never figure out whether it was created by a drug addict, or just a run-of-the-mill lunatic. Regardless, whoever came up with the robot should get a medal (and maybe a month or two of free treatment) for even conceiving of such a fun and engaging toy, much less getting the company to actually produce the damn thing. 

This is one of my earliest pick-ups -- one of the first three, actually -- and set the bar high for what a robot should be able to do when you pop in a couple batteries and power it up. Besides walking, the Television Spaceman has a light-up, scrolling TV, spinning eyes, space sounds, and a color-wheel just underneath its face. It also makes a lot of noise, in case all the flashing and motion isn't enough to drive children over the edge.

The Television Spaceman underwent a few small tweaks over the years, starting in 1966. The most noticeable is Alps' switch from tin to plastic legs, feet, and battery door. They also replaced the antenna, going from a metal one shaped something like a cross to the "fry basket" style found on this example. On the plus side, the company increased the size of the robot's TV screen, which, as far as I'm concerned, outweighs any of the changes in material that might otherwise turn off some collectors. 

The Television Spaceman isn't a tough robot to find; the toy was popular enough that Alps made thousands of them during its production run. With so many floating around today, prices remain reasonable, making the robot an easy one for new collectors to add to their shelves. 

Mechanized Robot (Nomura / 1957 / Japan / 13 inches)

Some robots are born classic. It's in their gears or something, an unmistakable aura of greatness that overwhelms every spaceship they fly, every mad scientist they rebel against, and every maiden they carry off for morally questionable -- not to mention biologically unfathomable -- activities. They're walking, clicking, blinking superstars of steel, and next to them, all other bits of technology look like wooden clubs.

Well, guess what? Next to Robby the Robot, star of Forbidden Planet and The Invisible Boy, those other robots look like punks.

Which sort of explains why Mechanized Robot is such a popular piece of tin. He's the closest vintage toy manufacturers could come to appropriating the Hollywood icon's likeness without incurring the wrath of MGM's lawyers. Nonetheless, there's no mistaking the toy's inspiration.

Mechanized Robot features a nice walking mechanism that causes the toy to move in a long, sweeping circle. At the same time, the pistons under his dome bounce and light up, while the translucent plastic in his neck glows a rich green. 

This is one of the first vintage robots I ever wanted, but it was also one I never thought I'd have a chance to own. It's not that expensive, relatively speaking, and, because so many were manufactured, they make regular appearances on eBay. But when I started out in the hobby, I imposed strict limits on my spending -- and man-oh-man does that sound so naive! -- and this toy fell decidedly outside those limits. But then a girl I was seeing suddenly dumped me, and my life got a little chaotic. Like many people in similar situations, I turned to therapy. 

Okay, okay... Retail therapy. 

Within a week, I had my Mechanized Robot, and it was an epiphany. I'd crossed some invisible financial line and a whole new world of toys opened up to me. Toys I couldn't afford, sure, but when you're nursing a broken heart, rent and food and clothing become surprisingly inconsequential. My shelves began filling up at an alarming rate, but with a much higher caliber of toy. (Actually, this was literally the case; at about this time, I began collecting space guns in earnest.)  

Mechanized Robot is one of those toys that underwent a few tweaks and changes over its long production run. The very first retail version of the robot was available in silver or black and featured small, knurled knobs on its battery doors. For some unknown reason, the silver color was abandoned, making this variation extremely rare and valuable today. (Rumors abound as to why Nomura chose to stop producing the toy in silver; the most popular says that the company thought Robby the Robot was silver because they'd only seen black and white photos of the character when they began designing the toy. This seems doubtful for reasons that will be made clear in a moment.) About a year later, the final version of the toy, available only in black, replaced the knurled battery door knobs with "butterfly" knobs, which were much easier for children to turn. 

However, the toy's most significant evolutionary step happened before it was made available to the public. Nomura first created a salesman's sample of the toy, a kind of prototype, that had significantly shorter legs and used C-cell batteries. This toy had more accurate proportions and did a better job of capturing Robby's unique look. However, the C-cell battery was woefully underpowered, and the toy would run down too quickly. Nomura was forced to retool the robot's legs for the final production run, expanding them to accept D-cells. Needless to say, the earlier, shorter variations are some of the rarest toys in the hobby. 

The so-called C-cell Robby was available in both silver and black. This helps dispel the rumor that Nomura thought Robby was supposed to be silver; if this was the case, why produce a black version for salesmen? The most likely reason for producing both colors is that Nomura thought they'd both sell. However, when Forbidden Planet reached theaters, kids probably decided that if they were going to own a slightly abstracted version of their new favorite robot, they were damned sure it would be the right color. Sales on the silver might have struggled, resulting in the company discontinuing it. (This is all speculation, though, and I'm open to other possible reasons for Nomura's dropping the extremely cool silver paint job.) 

You know, I actually owned a black C-cell salesman sample Mechanized Robot for a very brief time. It's an extremely long story that due to intergalactic treaties, a top-secret rating, and at least a dozen pinky-swears must remain mostly undisclosed. I do have clearance to say that snagging the toy involved more than a week of stressful back-and-forth phone calls; two double crosses; a suitcase of unmarked bills; one idiot who shall remain nameless; a master tactician known to the world only as "Robot Hunter"; and a hero who will forever be remembered in legend and song as Donald "The Bag Man" Conner.

This was one of those epic deals that inevitably go awry. Like the plot to every Guy Ritchie movie, it ends badly, but not so badly that everyone doesn't walk away with a small piece of the action and most of their body parts intact. So even though I got the toy, I couldn't afford to actually keep it. But everyone came away with a little bit more money than they started with, and, frankly, we've all got a great story to tell. 

Not to you, of course. We can only talk about it amongst ourselves, and even then, we have to drink enough alcohol to make sure we forget the conversation ever happened. But trust me, it's a killer story.

Man, I love this robot. 

Golden Robot (Linemar / 1956 / Japan / 6 inches)

Most of the robots in my collection have faces with fairly blank expressions -- if they have faces at all. Not Golden Robot. He's grinning exactly the way a robot grins when he's either best friends a little boy from the future, or he's about to throw off the shackles of human domination and run free through the woods like a hulking, clanking, grinding, lumbering tree sprite. Regardless, he's one happy robot.

Golden Robot stands out on a crowded shelf. Besides the crazy grin and the golden color for which he's named, the toy has some wonderful, vintage-looking lithographed thing-a-ma-bobs on his chest, back, and head. He's also got the classic, boxy design that makes the lady robots swoon. 

Golden Robot uses a two-button remote control to walk forward or back with light up eyes and swinging arms. He uses yet another modified pin-walking system, this time with wheels that have been shaved down on one side to give him a bobbling motion when he moves. 

There are two versions of the Golden Robot. One, like mine, has indented feet and a slightly wider shoulder width. The other version has a single rectangular slab for feet. I dunno, I like mine more. 

This is a pretty rare toy, and I never honestly expected to own one. This Golden Robot didn't seem any more likely to end up in my collection, especially since it popped up on eBay right after I'd spent an extra-large freelance check on my Alps Door Robot (see earlier post). But the seller listed him as non-working, so I added him to my overloaded watching page just in case. 

See, some robots are non-working because they're broken, but in some cases, the toy is only "broken." Non-working robots often sell for much less money than mint examples, and if it turns out to only be "broken," it's usually not that tough to repair. Then, voila, you've got a nice example of a rare, and otherwise expensive, toy. 

So what's going on with these not-really-broken broken toys? Often, there's a layer of gunk on their gears or motors that causes the parts to stiffen up. Sometimes it's a loose wire in a battery box. Maybe a connection isn't being made between a battery and a terminal. All of these require very little effort to repair, but you'd be surprised how many sellers don't even bother. Granted, it's sometimes something much worse -- a broken gear, a snapped shaft, a loose internal wire, bad rust in the battery compartment. But even these aren't impossible to repair, and a savvy collector can score some amazing deals by taking on a fixer-upper. 

A nice trick: If you put batteries in the toy and the lights work but the legs don't, you know the circuit's complete and it's probably just some stuck gears. A light tap is sometimes all you need to get things working. Or, perhaps, move the legs manually to help free things up. Poking a chopstick up into the body can sometimes nudge gears forward. Whenever you see a listing like, "Eyes light up, but the legs don't move," you know you might be able to bring that toy back to life without too much trouble. 

Anyway, I noticed after a few days that the price on the Golden Robot was still sitting just south of reasonable. At the same time, yet another freelance check arrived in the mail. I can't say I believe in fate, but I'll certainly pretend to when looking for an excuse to buy a robot. So with fate on my side, I decided to place a bid. And wouldn't ya know it, I won.

When I got the toy, I immediately discovered that the battery box had, at some point, been wired incorrectly. An easy fix, since the connections are exposed inside the remote control. No need to open the toy, clip the wires, or do anything that might end in the tragic death of a vintage toy. So I made the repairs and the toy ran perfectly.

Just goes to show, you don't need a bottomless wallet to build an impressive collection. Stay smart, know your toys, keep an eye out for deals, and you'll definitely score some major robots.