Botstock VII: Vintage Space Toy Convention (Pt. 2)

Every year, vintage space toy and robot collectors gather together for Botstock (click here for Part 1 of the Botstock Posts). This year's event was held at the Toy Robot Museum in Adamstown, PA. Adamstown, for those who don't regularly read this blog, is a haven for antique hunters, with dozens of stores lining the town's main strip. In my last post, I wrote about Botstock itself. This post gives the nitty-gritty, blow-by-blow account of my weekend's antiquing adventures. As always, the less obsessive might want to just skim this one... 

I went down to Adamstown with three friends: Steve Jaspen, Karl Tate, and John Alvarez. We woke up early Saturday morning, raring to go, and decided to try an outdoor antique market called Shupp's Grove first. The place is usually picked clean by late morning, and the dealers often turn in early to beat the later-day heat. We ended up getting there by 8:30 or so, but sadly, didn't see too many interesting pieces. One toy that did stand out was the Electric Drive Marx Mobile riding car. It's a three-foot long, battery-powered, lithographed tin monster that was meant for kids to, well, ride on. Impressive, but also expensive... I passed, but not until I'd taken a few good pictures. (Thanks to Phil Marks, proprietor of Shupp's Grove booth T-17.)

The Marx Mobile! Kids would sit in the cockpit and put their feet up on the pars extending from either side of the toy. The whole thing ran on a lantern battery. Wow!



The cockpit. All those buttons actually did stuff, from turning on lights to making noise.



The last thing you see as this puppy goes tearing down the street... 

We spent a little more time poking through Shupp's before finally calling it quits. We decided to move on to Morphy's Auction House, a usually reliable source for vintage toys. Turns out we weren't disappointed; Morphy's had a number of beautiful pieces, some rare, some fairly common. All were expensive, of course, but some were still within the acceptable, if high, end of the market. The belle of the ball for me was probably a dead-mint Strato Gun and its scarce box. I'll admit, I'd seen it before -- it's been sitting on the same shelf for years, and I'm pretty certain the seller is either going to have to remove the word "FIRM" from the toy's price tag, or else give up entirely and take the darn thing home for good. It's a great piece, but I can't see spending the money he wanted to get.


This Strato Gun has never been fired, according to the seller. The box is ultra rare. The toy's priced accordingly. Sigh. For more info on this gun, check out this previous post.

Other highlights at Morphy's included a rare, boxed Space Patrol watch and original, domed compass; a nice example of the relatively common Robby Tractor; a super clean, grey Cragstan Mr. Robot; and a really rare Nautilus Submarine toy from the Disney film 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. As if that wasn't enough, we also stumbled on a shelf full of drop dead gorgeous space banks. Unfortunately, they were part of an upcoming auction and weren't for sale before then. 

The nicest example of a Space Patrol watch and compass set I've ever seen. Dig Buzz Corey on the box top!



This nifty little tractor was also available in blue.



I've only seen a couple boxed examples of this extremely uncommon Nautilus submarine. I love this toy...







Various rocket banks. These are all rarer variations on banks that otherwise pop up quite often. I've never seen so many banks offered at once, or in such nice condition. It should be one heck of an auction.

Speaking of auctions, Morphy's was having one as we entered the building. It was a broad assortment of items, and I found a few interesting space toys. Nothing I desperately needed to own, though, so I didn't bother registering to bid. A friend of mine named Bill -- who goes by the Alphadrome handle Tinman93 -- scored a beautiful Archer Rocket. I wish I'd thought to take some pictures...

While I didn't buy any toys at Morphy's, I did indulge another collection of mine: 1939 World's Fair memorabilia. I'd found a nice, enameled pin on one of the shelves for $23 and couldn't resist picking it up. Little did I know that I'd be establishing a trend that would last through the end of the weekend. (You'll have to wait a few paragraphs for pictures!)

After Morphy's, we headed to something I remember being called the Antique Co-Op. It's a ramshackle little building with two floors and dozens of cases full of all sorts of interesting stuff -- including one that was practically overflowing with World's Fair material. I quickly picked out a number of items I wanted, but I decided not to buy them until I'd done some more toy hunting. I knew that the World's Fair stuff wasn't going anywhere, and I wanted to keep my money in reserve in case something really good popped up. Not only were there a whole mess of other antique stores to explore, but a few dealers were scheduled to show up sometime that day and I wanted to be ready for them.

A nice woman at the Co-Op gave me the name of the dealer who owned the World's Fair case and suggested I try coming by on Sunday when he'd be around. She figured he might be willing to cut me a deal on the pieces that interested me -- music to my ears. I promised both her and myself that I'd swing back to pick up at least a small item or two.

Next up: Adam's Antiques, a large, sort of ugly, brick building that's chock full of cases, each one stuffed with everything you can imagine -- including toys. Unfortunately, pickings were slim -- let's face it, pickings are almost always slim when it comes to vintage robots and ray guns -- but we did finally uncover a few good pieces. Chief among these was a super mint Tom Corbett: Space Cadet tin clicker gun and a nearly pristine box. I was tempted by it, I'll admit, but the price was just a bit too high. Not an unfair price, don't get me wrong, but more than I wanted to spend. If I was going to drop that kind of cash, it was going to be for something I like more than that gun.

Sadly, Adam's Antiques is touchy about photographs, so you'll have to close your eyes and use your imaginations. I realize that many of this blog's readers have no idea whatsoever what a Tom Corbett: Space Cadet tin clicker gun looks like, but I trust you'll come up with something suitably insane.

There were a couple other places we wanted to hit after Adam's, but first we decided to phone Joe and see if any dealers had shown up. Nope. So we headed over to a place called the Mad Hatter.

The Mad Hatter is another antique mall, one I've had a lot of luck with in the past. My first time there, I picked up a beautiful, red Space Patrol smoke gun, as well as a stack of vintage, first edition science fiction paperbacks. I managed to get more books on my next trip -- but those would be my last. This time around, the supply of books had dried up. There weren't any space toys, either. However, I did find an amazing shelf of early to mid century Hallowe'en decorations and toys. I love these things... They've got nothing to do with anything I collect, but the colors, the imagery -- it's all just so cool!

Every day is Hallowe'en! (A gold star for anyone who gets that particular reference.)

John did find something that interested him, though, and I uncovered a neat World's Fair postcard set. We decided to come back on Sunday if our money held out. Given our luck so far, none of us thought we'd have trouble in that department.

After the Mad Hatter, we headed back to the Toy Robot Museum for a bit, and then decided to swing by the hotel to see if any dealers had shown up. We must have had a psychic moment or something, because we arrived just as a dealer and long-time collector named Jay Brotter rolled in. Jay owns an online store called Robot Island, and specializes in not only unusual vintage bots, but also modern and reproduction pieces.

Because Steve, Karl, John and I are all such nice guys, we quickly volunteered to help carry all the boxes of toys into his room. And because we were feeling especially generous, we even helped Jay unpack them. Because that's the kind of guys we are. I suppose we could have made the job even easier by calling some of our friends who were still hanging out at the museum but, well... why bother them, right? Right.

Of course, this meant we had first dibs on all of Jay's toys -- what a coincidence!

A big part of Botstock is what's known as room trading. Collectors bring whatever toys they're looking to prune from their collections, dealers show up with their stock of toys, and everyone wanders around seeing what they can get. In the past, we've had three or four dealers plus a number of other people all bring a huge variety of robots and space toys. This year, however, we learned that two dealers had fallen ill and a third just wasn't able to make it out. It looked like Jay was it, aside from a few small pieces that other collectors were putting up for grabs.

Luckily, I finally managed to pick up a robot from Jay. It's a small, wind up, plastic toy that bounces around like a jitterbug on crystal meth. It's not a rare toy, but I've always liked it and finally decided to pick one up. This version, with the red body and blue arms, was made by a company called Cragstan in the mid Sixties. A slightly earlier version, done all in red, was made by the Japanese company Aoki. Mine is actually paired (incorrectly) with the Aoki box. I don't mind -- it's much cooler than Cragstan's version, and I actually paid less than what other dealers seem to be asking for the toy these days. As far as I'm concerned, it's perfect.

My Cragstan/Aoki jiggle robot. Note the wheeling and dealing in the background.

Room trading. The bed is covered by a variety of both old and newer robots.

Some more toys, a mix of older and modern pieces. The orange robot you can sort of see in the top corner is a custom bot made by a collector.

We called it quits for the day after hanging out with Jay. It was time for our annual BBQ, which takes place behind the hotel anyway, so we all decided that it was time for beer and burgers. We also had a raffle that night -- I didn't win anything -- and then stayed up into the night watching old home movies from the Fifties that someone had brought along. Fun stuff. And then it was time to crash out for the night.

We were up early Sunday morning to see if any dealers would show up. There were a couple, but none had vintage toys. So after hanging out for an hour or so, Steve, John, Karl and I headed over to a giant indoor/outdoor antique mall called Renningers.


Some robots at a dealer's table.

There were a few toys, but once again, nothing too spectacular. We still spent more than an hour picking through people's cases -- even when there's nothing I want, I have fun seeing what's out there.

After Renningers, we decided to head back over to the Mad Hatter so John could pick up something he'd found. While there, I ended up snagging a package of mini-postcards from the '39 World's Fair. (Again, hold tight for pics!)

We hit a couple other random antique stores after that -- we mostly came up empty, though I did pick up a small Westinghouse Robot pin. The Westinghouse Robot was part of the Westinghouse display at the World's Fair. It was a giant, supposedly intelligent robot; in reality, it was controlled by an operator behind the scenes. I like the pin because it nicely bridges my World's Fair and Robot collections. Or something like that.

Finally, right before going to dinner, I returned to the Antique Co-Op to see if I could score some of those World's Fair items I'd looked at on Saturday. The dealer who owned the WF case -- Al -- was there, and he proved to be a real nice guy who was happy to swing a deal on prices. I had planned on buying maybe two pieces, but ended up walking away with five. I still ended up spending less than I'd originally budgeted.


The packet of 16 mini postcards that I bought at the Mad Hatter. These were also sold in a sort of pinkish-orange box; neither is more rare. I happen to be partial to blue.



Clockwise from top right: Westinghouse Robot pin, World's Fair pin from Morphy's, and round World's Fair pinback from the Antique Co-Op. Underneath them all is a World's Fair mirror that I also picked up at the Co-Op.



The enduring symbol of the 1939 World's Fair, the Trylon and Perisphere. I picked this thermometer at the Co-Op. Apparently it was nearly 70 degrees when I took this photo.



A fantastic movie viewer set, complete with three rolls of film. The viewer itself is made from bakelite. Check out the awesome deco box art!


The viewer and two boxes of film. The third strip is stored in the viewer itself.

And that was that. After the Co-Op we went out for a nice Italian dinner with the remaining Botstockers, and then it was time to head back home. Fewer toys than I'd have hoped to find, but I'm really happy with the few things I did manage to take home.

And the hunt continues... 

Botstock VII: Vintage Space Toy Convention (Pt. 1)

Warning: This is an epically long post. So epically long, I'm making it a two-parter. Feel free to skim or just check out the pictures. Anyone who wants to delve deeper into the Botstock experience, well, okay then. Read on... 

Friday, May 14th. Time for Botstock, the annual vintage robot and space toy convention. I call it a convention, but it's really more of a get together, a gathering of like-minded toy geeks who enjoy nothing more than discussing the merits of pin-walking mechanisms, the scarcity of certain color variations, and whether Robby the Robot could take Lost In Space's B9 in a cage match. (The answer, of course, is yes.) Botstock is a chance to see rare toys, hunt for additions to our collections, and, most importantly, to hang out with friends from around the world who mostly only talk online.



This year's Botstock -- the seventh -- was being held at the Toy Robot Museum in Adamstown, PA. We'd been there three times before (Botstocks one, four, and five). The event moves around; besides the museum we'd also held it at the Robot Hut in Elk, Washington, and the Kane County Toy show outside of Chicago. Good times, for sure, but heading down to the museum felt a lot like returning to a home away from home. It's a comfortable place with lots to see and do, and the museum's curator, Joe Knedlhans, always goes out of his way to make sure everyone has a fun time. (I've written about the museum often enough -- check out entries here, here, and video here.)


The man...


The myth...


The legend! Ladies and gentlemen, owner and curator of the Toy Robot Museum, Joe Knedlhans!








Various robots from the Toy Robot Museum. I've posted about this place so often; check here and here for more pics and video.

Botstock began in 2003 when I decided to take my first trip down to the museum. I mentioned as much on Alphadrome, the online forum for vintage space toy collectors, and a member named Robert mentioned he'd be in the area and could meet me there. Joe Knedlhans than piped up that he could get the director of Unwound, a documentary about vintage tin robots, to come to the museum to sign copies of the film if other collectors wanted to make the trip, too. A bunch of Alphadromers decided to join us, and the next thing you know, we were having the first Alphadrome meet up.

That's when a collector named Darryl -- a.k.a. Robotnut -- posted a picture of a poster with the name Botstock. It stuck, and here we are today.

That first Botstock drew something like 10 people and lasted a single day. Since then, it's stretched to fill the whole weekend and we've had as many as 50 people show up (including wives, girlfriends, kids, and even a couple pets). We've had collectors from across the country and Canada, and even from Germany. It's really a fun opportunity to meet people who I've only previously spoken to online.

Unlike traditional conventions, which have scheduled panels and speakers and specific events, Botstocks are fairly loose -- especially when they're in Adamstown. Joe's museum serves as a meeting place and base of operations; it's a place to hang out and show off whatever toys we've found. Oh yeah, and Joe supplies lots and lots of booze. Free booze, freely flowing. And pinball. And Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots! And also booze, in case I didn't mention it. Ahem. Moving on...

In an effort to broaden the Botstock experience, Joe likes to clear some space in the museum for what we call "Special Exhibits," which are generally supplied by attendees. In the past, we've had some incredibly rare robots, lots of custom toys, an amazing collection of Buck Rogers memorabilia, and, from me, a small arsenal of space guns.

This year, I brought along four Dan Dare toys, plus a Marx Rex Mars Flashlight gun. The Dan Dare pieces were just something for other collectors to check out, and included a Dan Dare Cap Gun, the Dan Dare Cosmic Ray Gun, the Dan Dare Rocket Gun, and the rare Dan Dare Atomic Squirt Gun.


My various Dan Dare guns. 

I brought the Rex Mars gun, however, to accompany a display of original Marx blueprints sent along by a collector named Mike (a.k.a. ToyMemories). He collects not only the blueprints, but also Marx prototypes, molds, test shots (the first items to come out of a mold in the early stages of toy development), sculpts, and whatever other unique pieces of toy history he can get his hands on. Every year, he lends a few of these out to Joe with the idea that other collectors will bring along the final production pieces. Besides the Rex Mars gun, we also had blueprints for a set of Marx Jumpies and a Space Target set, plus original molds for a set of Marx aliens. Truly rare treasures!

Rex Mars gun with partial blueprints.


Marx Jumpies. Push 'em down until the suction cup on the underside of their bodies attaches them to the table. After a few seconds, the spring legs will pull them free, launching them up into the air.


A beautiful Marx Flash Gordon water pistol and box.


Two custom built toys created by an Alphadrome member named Joe Markee.


An extremely rare Johilco Space Station. This British toy was uncovered at a local flea market and carefully restored by Alphadromer Phil Redman. Amazing.

I also brought one other item to Botstock: A Takara die-cast, missile-firing R2-D2 from 1978. Joe's museum has a case full of R2-D2 and C-3PO toys, and I knew he was missing this rare one. Through a small misadventure in collecting (ahem), I'd manage to pick up two of them. Rather than flip the extra on eBay, I decided to instead contribute it to the Toy Robot Museum. Joe's done so much for us collectors over the years -- and he's been such a good friend to me -- that I'm always trying to find ways to give something back to him. He seemed to appreciate the R2, and I felt really good about supporting the museum. 

Every year, we try to give Botstock a theme, or at least a focus. This year, it was the Alphabot, which I previously posted about here. Based on the Alphadrome mascot, it's a custom creation by a collector and mad scientist named John Rigg. He made it out of aluminum and resin, and sold it in both pre-built and kit forms to members of Alphadrome. Eight Botstockers brought their robots to the convention this year and the whole group of toys was displayed in the museum -- a pretty impressive sight considering each one is custom built (with various tweaks to the design and colors) by either its owner or John Rigg himself.

Alphabots on display! Also, note the Buck Rogers U-235 Atomic Disintegrator pistol just hanging out on the bottom shelf. Because you just. Never. Know.

As an added bonus, John sent along the foam-core mock up of the Alphabot, along with the first motorized prototype, for inclusion in our annual raffle. I'll admit it, I had my heart set on winning the mock up, but nope, no luck. It went to a collector with a great collection named Perry. In fact, he managed to win both the mock up and the prototype! So while I'll admit I was bummed about not winning them myself, it was great to see the pair stay together. Enjoy them, Perry!

John Rigg's foam-core mock up of the Alphabot. Sigh.

Botstock's official accommodation is the Black Horse Inn. That's where we have our room trading and the Saturday evening BBQ, which takes place at a pavilion out back. We also hold our raffle there, and on Sunday, dealers set up shop under the pavilion. It's a nice enough hotel, and thought he decor can most kindly be described as "Mid-Seventies Roadside," the rooms are clean and the rates are low. Guests also receive free breakfast, and that means more money for toys. Nice!

Room trading! Alphadromers pick over a dealer's wares.


Score! I picked up this small, wind up robot. It's from the mid Sixties and was made originally by a company called Aoki, and then later sold in the States through the company Cragstan. This is the Cragstan version -- red body, blue arms -- though it's paired (incorrectly) with the Aoki box. Frankly, I like this version of the box better than the rather boring Cragstan version, so it's fine with me. It cost less than those offered by other dealers, so I can't complain about the price either! (This has to be the longest photo caption ever.)


The raffle table. So much stuff, including both of John Rigg's Alphabot prototypes; a custom creation by Joe Markee; a custom Botstock hoodie; and various toys, comics, and even Christmas ornaments.


More raffle prizes: In the front, one of Andy Hill's Andybots. (For more on Anybots -- and Andy Hill's custom robot company, Electro Art Works, check out this post here.) Joe Markee's robot is right behind it. Fantastic work!


Free, embroidered T-shirts for all the attendees compliments of an Alphadromer named Leon. 

Another raffle item: Lithographed tin panels intended for use on a modern toy robot made by the company Metal House. Definitely a one-of-a-kind prize! Nope, I didn't win this one, either... 

When we're not at the museum or the hotel, most of us spend our time roaming up and down Adamstown's main strip, which is lined with antique shops and malls. There's also Morphy's Auction House, which has a well-stocked consignment wing, and Schupp's Grove, an outdoor antique market that, in the past, provided some amazing finds. You'd think that having 30 or more collectors hitting all the same places would inspire some hefty competition, but the truth is, we're all shopping at different price points and for slightly different toys -- there's often enough to go around. 

Yes, a majority of our time is spent picking through the antique shops. And no, we don't often find anything good. Prizes are out there, though, and we did stumble across some amazing toys -- as well as a lot of junk. For the complete blow-by-blow, check out Part II, coming shortly!

The weekend usually ends with a group dinner at either an Italian restaurant or a steak joint. It's a last chance to show off whatever we've found, commiserate over toys we didn't get, and generally eek every last bit of geekiness out of the time we've got left. About half way through my appetizer, I tend to get bummed out that the weekend is coming to an end. But at the same time, I also know that I'll return home reinvigorated and ready to jump back into the hobby.

I also begin counting down the days until the next Botstock... wherever it might be.

364... 363... 362...

Antique Trader Magazine Article On Vintage Robots

Joe Knedlhans brought this article on vintage space toys, printed in this month's Antique Trader Magazine, to the attention of the Alphadrome community. I'm sharing it with all of you. It's written by Justin Moen, and presents an introductory overview of tin robots from the Forties, Fifties, and Sixties. A nice, quick read.

The Morphy Auction: After the Mayhem

Saturday, 6 p.m.
I was tired and, truth be told, more than half-mad. Eight hours of an auctioneer's constant patter was taking its toll. His voice was as mercilessly loud -- and as completely inescapable -- as a serial killer's chain saw. But I wasn't going anywhere, not now. Not after everything I'd sacrificed to get this far -- the deals I'd let slide, the toys I'd let go, the smaller battles I'd forfeited in order to win the war. No, I was in too deep, stuck in the mire of my own stubbornness.

And then, after nearly 500 lots, my waiting ended.

"Lot 1275. Let's start the bidding at-" I didn't wait to hear the number, I just shot my hand into the air. The piece of paper with my bidder number on it was crumpled in my fist.

A nod from the auctioneer, and a call for a higher bid. Someone else's hand went up. Then an online bidder bumped the price even more. I raised my hand; the guy online followed right on my heals. I bid again, and smiled as my online competition dropped out. Unfortunately, he was quickly replaced by someone sitting a few rows behind me.

To hell with this, I thought. I raised my bidder sheet and this time I kept it up. The other guy bid, my sheet stayed high. His move. He upped the price; my hand never wavered. Back and forth, the price climbing, my arm a steel beam, never bowing, never faltering. I had tunnel vision, the world around me shimmered and disappeared, all I could see was the toy. The bids kept climbing, and I began to wonder just how far I could go before oblivion dragged me down into her sweet, sweet embrace...

Friday, 8 a.m.
The road was clear as my friends and I left Manhattan in our rented Ford S.U.V. and headed south to Adamstown, PA, for the Morphy Auctions sale of the Marc Solondz toy collection. The mood in the car was light, our excitement levels high. Two full days of vintage toys, 1500 lots in all, ranging from tin robots, space toys, and ray guns to Japanese vinyl and die-cast character pieces. The collection was full of rare variations, uncommon boxes, and unusual finds. It was unheralded, and represented more than 30 years of toy buying by a man with a keen eye for quality.

Besides attending the auction, we planned on hanging out at the Toy Robot Museum, seeing some friends, and generally geeking out over our favorite subject: Vintage space toys and robots.

In the navigator's seat was Karl Tate, a contributor to the Attic. Steve Jaspen, who appeared in the Attic's first Top-Shelf Titans interview, chilled in the back. Discussion centered on the amount of toys flooding the scene in the last month, as well as the downward trend in pricing. We talked about the toys in the auction that interested us most, calculating the odds that we'd actually take something home while also figuring out what we'd do if we came up short. Auctions are tricky business, and it pays to have a Plan B.

Me, I was tied up over two toys: the Moon Robot (a.k.a. Ribbon Robby), and a rare little number called Ranger Robot. Both are tough finds, but beyond that, they couldn't be more different. The Moon Robot is inspired by Forbidden Planet's Robby the Robot, and features three, spiraling metal ribbons under its dome that spin as the toys walks. It's an understated 'bot, but its subtle design gives it a lot of impact. I've wanted one for a long time, and I was pretty certain I could afford it.

Moon Robot. Note the pink tinted dome and the revolving ribbons of lithoed tin.

The Ranger Robot, on the other hand, is all flash and sizzle. Its mechanized guts are sheathed in a clear plastic body, and it features an array of lights, noise-makers, and even a smoke-blower -- all of which remain visible. The toy isn't based on any previous design, and it never inspired any imitators. It's a unique, stand-out addition to any collection -- but one that would probably cost me a few bucks more.

Ranger Robot. One of the few toys that let you see the inner mechanism.

Frankly, I had no idea which I wanted more, and I was driving myself nuts turning the question over in my mind. My plan, formulated as I drove down the New Jersey Turnpike towards PA, was to check them out up close, hold them, give them a good once over, and hope I'd feel some sort of emotional tug in one direction or the other.

Friday, 11 a.m.
Pulling into Adamstown, we decided to head directly over to Morphy's. The auction house is located just off route 222, inside a nondescript brown building. I wasn't sure what sort of action we'd find, and couldn't decide if the parking lot was half full or half empty. Today's auction featured the die-cast and vinyl toys, and I wondered what kind of crowd it'd attract. There wasn't anything I wanted, of course, but curiosity and a deep love for pretty much all toys compelled my friends and I to check it out. Besides, it's always a good idea to scope out the auction house beforehand -- find out how the auctioneers operate, investigate the place's layout, that sort of thing.

Once inside, I headed right over to the cases of robots. They'd been cleaned up and re-arranged since I first saw them months earlier during a preview weekend, and the effect was impressive.

A minty example of the Space Commando. The helmet is usually cracked, if not missing altogether.

One of my all time favorite space tanks. The litho's just amazing, with a lot of great details.

An uncommon, original Tetsujin 28 toy. Love that box.

I quickly found the Moon and Ranger Robots -- conveniently located only a few toys away from each other -- and asked an employee to take them out so I could inspect them closer. See, that's one of the nice things about auctions: They're like museums, but you're allowed to handle all the merchandise. It's an incredible opportunity to fondle examine some really rare toys, stuff you'd never likely see at any other time.

Sadly, my plan failed: giving them a close look only made me want each robot more. I put them back on their shelves with a sigh, figuring that maybe I'd just go for whichever came up first. That'd be the Moon Robot, leaving the Ranger Robot as my Plan B. But somehow, that didn't feel right. I shook my head and went looking for my friends.

I soon ran into a long-time, high-end collector named Perry Mahoney. He also runs a store called, appropriately enough, Perry's Toy Exchange. He was there with his friend, Glen, and the two were picking over the shelves of toys like crime scene investigators looking for clues to a murder. I asked him if anything interested him. "I don't know," he replied. "I think I have everything already!" Apparently, he was hoping to stumble on some rare variations. If nothing else, he figured he'd pick up some toys for resale later on. A good plan.

A small group of robots and astronauts.

Mr. Atomic, with the Moon Robot right behind him. Two fantastic toys!

Tremendous Mike. A rare toy that was also available in grey.

Karl, Steve, and I spent a couple hours checking out the rest of the cases before deciding we'd had our fill -- time for the Toy Robot Museum. Located about five minutes north of Morphy's, it's run by a good friend of ours named Joe Knedlhans. Besides being possibly the only museum of its kind, with more than 2000 robots on display, it's also the unofficial club house for robot collectors whenever they're in town. (I've written about it here and here, and have posted a video profile here.)

Joe was his usual, jovial self, and soon after arriving I found myself wandering around the museum with a beer in my hand and stars in my eyes. It wasn't long before some other collectors showed up: Phil, who owns one of the nicest Buck Rogers collections I've ever seen; Mark, a guy who not only owns some amazing toys but also builds his own; and Charlie, who's built an impressive collection that focuses on vintage space toys and robots by a company called Horikawa.

Soon after that, we were joined by the man I think of as the original toy robot collector: David Kirk. David, who's also a successful artist and the author of the Miss Spider and Nova series of children's books, began actively collecting robots when he was just a kid back in the Sixties. He got most of his toys upon their release, and even appeared on a local TV program about collectors. In the Nineties (I think) he sold off many of his toys, but over the last decade he's managed to rebuild an incredibly impressive collection. He's also a hell of a nice guy.

As great as it was to see all those guys, I've got to admit that the high point came when the door swung open and in walked Pat Karris. Pat's a long time collector who, over the years, build up the biggest collection of Robby the Robot and Forbidden Planet related toys in the world. You name it, he owned it. When I first met him, he lived in NYC and worked just around the corner from my office. We'd get together a few times a week for coffee and conversation, and over time, he ended up teaching me nearly everything I know about collecting robots. Along with Steve Jaspen, he's one of the people who I can honestly call a mentor. Unfortunately, he moved out of town and I hadn't seen him in a couple years. Needless to say, there were a lot of slaps on the back when he strolled into the museum.

Friday, 10:30 p.m.
After dinner at a local Italian restaurant and a couple more hours at the museum for geekery and beer, we all decided to call it a night. Saturday's auction was slated to begin at 10 a.m., but doors opened at eight. Of course, I wanted to get there as early as possible. Because I'm a madman.

I was sharing a room with Karl and Steve at our favorite local crash pad, the Black Horse Lodge. Nothing fancy, but the prices are low, the rooms are clean, and the staff's always friendly. We knew there'd be only two beds in the room, so I brought along an air mattress for myself. I was pretty tired after the early morning drive and the long day of toys, and was unconscious soon after hitting the inflated vinyl...

Boom! Awake! Eyes snapped open, brain alert, sleep banished. I glanced over at the window expecting to see a little light sneaking around the edges of the heavy drapes. No such luck, which meant, I figured, that it was about five in the morning -- two hours before my alarm was set to go off. No big deal, I thought, and I grabbed my iPhone so I could read the morning's news. That's when I noticed the clock... 2:45 in the morning! Hours until the auction, and wide awake. Great.

Saturday, 3:15 a.m.
Paper: read. Twenty games of Solitaire: played. Emails to friends on the West Coast: sent. Short blog entry: posted. I started to feel a little drowsy, so I killed my phone, pulled up the covers, and settled back in for a few more hours of sleep. Er... Not so much.

I was stricken with "Christmas Morning Syndrome." I was so eager for the auction to begin, so wired from thinking about all those toys, that sleep was utterly impossible. I'd close my eyes and my mind would keep on racing. I'd slip off for a few minutes, but the robots tromping through my brain would wake me right back up.

I did have one interesting dream during a brief foray into unconsciousness. In it, I discovered that one of the robots I wanted to buy -- I don't know which one -- had a busted leg. I was so happy, because it meant my choice between the Moon Robot and Ranger Robot was clear. In fact, I felt a twinge of sadness when I woke up and realized that, damnit, both toys were as close to mint as I've ever seen. It's definitely the first time I felt upset over a toy being too nice. Man, I'm a freak.

Anyway, after tossing and turning for a few more hours, the sun finally started coming up. beating the alarm, I jumped in the shower and got dressed before waking up my compatriots. A quick breakfast, check out of the lodge, and then it was off to the toys.

Saturday, 9 a.m.
Once again, I had no idea what to expect as I drove out to Morphy's. A seething crowd of madmen, each one wild-eyed and frothing at the mouth? Me, I was a twitchy mess, and I didn't figure I'd be much better off than anyone else. Times like these try men's spirits, and most of us are found wanting. So I was kind of nervous as I got out of the car and approached the double glass doors. Deep breath, Doc. And... here we go.

Morphy's looked more or less like it had the day before, only the shelves were mostly devoid of the vinyl and die-cast toys. A bunch of people were milling around the robot cases, including my friends. I also ran into a collector and dealer named Larry Waldeman, who runs an online store called Cybertoyz. Larry's a great guy, always fun to talk to, and a real expert on robots and space toys. He was dragging some poor, young Morphy's staffer from case to case as he went through the collection, one piece after another. I decided to stick close by, checking out whichever toys he looked at, asking questions, learning something new the whole time.

Morphy's also had a snack bar set up, with cookies, donuts, and even hotdogs. I grabbed a bavarian cream donut and counted that as breakfast.

Atomic Robot Man. This is a rare version that's stamped with the words "Souvenir of the New York Science Fiction Conference" on its back. Only three or four are known to exist. I wrote about mine here.

The Atomic Water Pistol, a rare die-cast toy out of England.

A fantastic example of the Buck Rogers XZ-38 Disintegrator. That's the extremely rare box behind it.

Saturday, 10 a.m.
Time to start! We all made our way over to the auction area, a large portion of the building set out with row after row of chairs. The auctioneer was positioned on a raised platform at the front of the room, flanked on either side by two large TVs that would display the toy and lot number currently up for grabs. A couple people sat by him at computer terminals, monitoring the real-time, online bidding. At the back of the room was a bank of phones staffed by Morphy employees -- they would handle the phone bidding.

I only saw about 20 collectors on hand; I leaned over to ask Steve what he thought of the turnout. He wasn't impressed, and told me that the famous Sotheby's sale of F.H. Griffith's collection in 2000 was packed to the rafters. We all looked around at the few collectors and wondered how the turnout would impact prices.

Morphy's says that it runs through about 100 lots every hour, and with hundreds of toys to go before anything I found interesting appeared on the block, I decided to wander around the auction house to look at the other items being offered in later sales. Morphy's doesn't just deal in toys, they also have advertising memorabilia, antique weaponry, vintage vending machines -- an eclectic mix of items. Marbles caught my attention, actually, with all their weird designs and rich colors. I was also digging the old die-cast cars, including a cool, small-scale "people mover" toy from the 1939 World's Fair. They even had a case full of old, wooden Fisher Price pull toys -- fascinating.

During one of the auction's particularly slow moments -- I think they were going through the last of the Japanese character toys -- Larry Waldeman actually lead a bunch of us outside to his car, where he had a number of excellent toys for sale. A couple people bought pieces from him, despite the auction going on just inside. Because that's the kind of maniacs we are...

Eventually, the selection of toys heated up and we all began paying more attention to the auction. That's when I noticed how low the prices were. "Bargain" doesn't even begin to describe things. "Steal" comes close. As Pat said, "If you ever wanted to begin collecting these toys, this is the time and place to do it!" In fact, I saw a number of people bidding on lot after lot. Some were dealers -- like Perry and Larry -- and some were people I'd never seen before. One guy, who looked to be in his early Sixties, had a running list of what he'd won; it'd grown into multiple columns by the time I noticed it. Another collector, a younger looking guy from Europe, was cleaning up on some of the higher-end pieces. In the back of the room, a well-known dealer was bidding on behalf of some customers, and he took home a lot of toys. A few pieces went to online bidders, and some went to the people calling in by phone.

The Change Prince. The dinosaur head opens up, revealing the boy's head. Definitely a big ticket item (though, I'll be honest, it never really did much for me).

The rare Chime Trooper is a pretty whimsical looking toy. It's got a great action -- yep, it chimes when it rolls forward.

The Hiller Atomic Ray Gun. Note the resemblance to the red British gun, above. The Hiller came first. The box pictured in this photo actually belongs to the British gun -- no idea how this mistake was made, but I hope whoever purchased the guns isn't too upset.

The Mighty 8 is high on many collectors' lists. Too bad it's so damn rare, especially with the box. The color wheel is pretty amazing when it's running.

Unfortunately, I couldn't take advantage of the low prices -- the toys I wanted were near the end of the auction, and I didn't want to risk coming up short. So I gritted my teeth and watched as people picked up some of my favorite robots without putting a dent in their wallets.

This was definitely more restraint than I think I've ever shown in my life. I summoned up reserves of willpower I never imagined I had. We're talking zen focus, laser-beam eyes, the single-minded determination of the meanest guard dog you've ever had the displeasure of meeting. Slowly, ever so slowly, the lots creeped past.

Including, by the way, the Moon Robot, which, somewhere along the line, I decided not to bid on. I'm not really sure how it happened, but the Ranger took over my brain and wouldn't leave. That was the toy for me, no doubt about it. Ranger Robot was mine, it just didn't know it yet.

And so I wanted. And waited. And waited. Hours and hours of sitting there, listening to the auctioneers incessant patter while the occasional gasp of frustration escaped my lips whenever a toy sold for a bargain basement price. And then, finally... "Lot number 1275. Let's start the bidding at-"

Saturday, 6:02 p.m.
I'd been bidding on the Ranger Robot like a maniac. Just as I started to wonder if my money would last as long as my willpower, I noticed the auctioneer looking around the room. He was repeating my most recent bid, waiting to see if anyone would step up and beat it. My heart began beating faster as the auctioneer held out for another 30 seconds -- I swear, it felt like an hour. Just waiting as the auctioneer implored someone else to outbid me and drive the price up further.

No one did.

"Sold!" he proclaimed. "To the guy who's been waiting all day for that piece."

I fell back in my seat, a grin plastered across my face. It took me a moment to notice that the room was applauding. Applauding! In a day without any crazy, price-driven drama, my little moment in the sun stood out. I'll admit that it felt good, a perfect ending to what had been a loooooong day.

My Ranger robot. A great example that works like a dream. More details in future posts.

All in all, it turned out to be a fantastic weekend. Good friends, good toys, and good times. If that's not what you're supposed to get out of a hobby, well, I'm not sure why else to even bother!

Happy collecting!