SP 560 Rocket Pencil Case (Unknown / 1950s / U.S. / 9.5 inches)

Science fiction films in the 1950s relied on many tried and true tropes, but few thrill me today like the trusty rocket. Cigar-shaped, silver, sleek, it was a vehicle to adventure in such classic flicks as Destination Moon, Rocketship X-M, When World's Collide, and The Angry Red Planet. It's ubiquity was such that today it stands as an instantly recognizable icon of vintage science fiction.

While many toy rockets were produced in the Fifties and Sixties, few of them really captured the simple elegance of their cinematic counterparts. So you can imagine my thrill when I stumbled on this little number one evening while surfing eBay.



Made of light plastic and with a thin coating of chrome, the SP 560 looks exactly like a model from one of those old movies. It's designed to hold pencils inside the hollow body, and there's a pencil sharpener in the base. I can just imagine how much fun I'd have carrying this thing to school every day. I'm pretty sure I'd dump the pencils in my desk right away so that I could play with the rocket during recess.


I love the minimal details, like the "windows" running down the side.


Old-school pencil sharpener!

Unfortunately, I have no idea who produced this beauty, when it came out, or how common or rare it might really be. I've never seen one before, but I didn't have to pay very much for it. Some of the chrome is worn and thinning, and there are a few scratches here and there, but generally, it's in nice shape -- if it were rare, I'd have expected it to sell for a lot. So who knows?


Chromed plastic was relatively new in the 1950s, and it often became spotted and worn with time.

If anyone digs up any info, please post it in the comments or send me an email!

Guest Column! X-505 Flying Saucer (Nomura, 1962)

There's no denying that flying saucers played a major role in science-fiction toys of the Fifties and Sixties. There's also no denying that I don't know much about them. So I'm bringing in a ringer: Donald Conner. I'm proud to announce that Don's going to write a semi-regular column on these great old space toys, one that draws on not only his vast collection of flying saucers, but also his deep reserves of knowledge and research. If there's a man for this mission, it's Don! Take it away, buddy...

-- Doc.

By Donald Conner

In the 1950’s, you had your two basic space ship designs: the rocket and the flying saucer.

We earthlings knew all about rockets because we invented them. For years, science-fiction art and movies depicted the rockets; they were curvaceous, sexy things of beauty in a decidedly art deco mode. And by the 1950s, we were already sending them up towards space -- the dream of putting a man on the moon would soon become a reality.

Flying saucers, on the other hand, were steeped in mystery and urban legend. While people wrote about rockets in science journals, saucers were fodder for the tabloids and the pulps. These were the aliens' vehicles, terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. The idea of a flying saucer sent the mind racing: "Are they real?" "How do they work?" "Who built them?" "Are they friend or foe?" Imagine the cosmic knowledge that could be learned by one trip in a flying saucer! Combined with their unfathomable menace, they were like outlaw bikers and the key to the universe, all rolled into one.

While other kids might have been afraid of a saucer landing on their lawn, I would have asked Marvin the Martian if I could take her for a spin! A rocket could only follow a straight line, but it was a well-known fact that a flying saucer could turn on a dime and zip in the opposite direction in an instant -- it really handles, baby! It was a cross between a Lotus Elan and a hovercraft, the perfect intergalactic sports craft.

Some of Don's flying saucers.

And that's why I collect flying saucers. Once you decide to collect vintage robots and space toys, you can quickly discover that the space toys are almost overwhelming in their variety. Space tanks, flying saucers, rockets, space cars, lunar landers, space capsules, and space stations -- all have been produced by the great toy manufacturers from Japan, America, Great Britain, France, and Germany during the classic period from the mid-1950s to the late-1960s. Faced with that, I had to find a focus, and I was drawn to the flying saucers like a divining rod drawn to the Pacific Ocean. Battery operated, friction, and wind-up -- these toys whirred, spun, bumped, turned, almost but not quite fell off the table, rose and hovered! And they did it while flashing, sparking, buzzing, and beeping their way to a coveted status among kids back in the day -- and collectors today!

To launch this column, I'd like to talk about the X-505 Flying Saucer, by Nomura of Japan. It's one of my personal favorites. Sure, it's an extremely rare piece, but I also love it for its looks and its status as a trend setter.

The X-505, a true beauty!

Catalog dated to 1962, the X-505 is one of the earliest of the friction saucers to have a central, clear dome. Another Japanese company, Masudaya, had been making friction saucers some years prior, but their design had more of a fuselage swooping back between two elongated fins. And a company called Yoshiya had been making battery operated saucers with central domes and pilots as early as 1960. But Nomura took it a step forward with the X-505, introducing the tin, lithographed cockpit and pilot to the friction saucer. Other toy manufacturers would soon be copying the X-505 formula of tin-litho pilot's head and cockpit, embossed headlights, two fins, and sparking window.

Note the lithographed cockpit and pilot underneath that perfect dome.

Sparks would light inside the four elongated, red windows behind the pilot.

The X-505's mechanism is fairly simple. The inner flywheel acts as a motor for this bad boy -- rev the toy up by swiping the wheels across the floor and then set it down and watch the sparks fly as it zooms forward!

Adding an X-505 to your collection is no easy trick -- they rarely come up for sale, and I do mean rarely. But if you do come across one, take a close look at the dome. Nomura used a much thinner plastic on their friction saucer domes and it cracks easily.

I bought mine years ago in a Smith House auction, it was the one piece I wanted very badly out of that auction and at the time I didn’t have a complete sense of just how rare it is. Luckily, robots were getting much more attention than saucers in those days and I managed to snag this little gem. In the 5 years since that auction I haven’t seen another boxed example come up for sale anywhere. In my opinion, the box itself is one of the best flying saucer boxes eve. The art work really sizzles with its emphasis on the sparking engine. Whenever I see it I can't help thinking the same artwork could have been easily used on a brick of firecrackers.

So you can see why the X-505 was such a trend setter. It's a real dazzler, a space vehicle with hot-rod good looks and a forward-looking design.

X-2 Rocket (Masudaya / 1950s / Japan / 7.5 inches)

Few objects represent mid-century futurism like the cigar shaped rocket.

"General, may I present... the X-2. This is the one that's gonna get us to Mars!"

Oddly enough, I only recently added one to my collection: The X-2. It's common, it's relatively inexpensive, it's hardly the fanciest ship in the space port. But I happen to think it perfectly captures everything I'm looking for in one of these rockets, so on the shelf it went!

Those red slots near the fins would have glowed when the toy sparked.

Like most of the toy rockets produced in the 1950s, the X-2 is a fairly basic toy, with a simple friction mechanism to provide locomotion and a sparking action. But it's hard to resist the iconic design, the whimsical lithography, those kickin' fins. Let's face it, this is how a rocket is supposed to look.

Of course, I only have one, and it's hard to make one of anything stand out on a display shelf. So I decided to jazz it up a bit with a custom made display stand designed to look like a burst of flame. I used Super Sculpey with a tin foil core, paint, and cotton balls. Fairly simple, and a little rough, but all in all I'm happy with it as a first effort. If I'm ever feeling bored, I might have another go at it. I also think I might rig up some sort of launch pad, maybe dress it up with a few really small-scale figures, cars, etc. Or would that be a little too crazy?

3... 2... 1... Blast off!

I know a couple collectors with incredible rocket collections. There are many different examples out there, and some are as difficult to find -- and as expensive -- as the rarest robots. That's why it's taken me so long to add even one to my shelves. Robots remain my first love, and I've been hesitant to divert the necessary funds required to support yet another habit. But one rocket can't hurt, right?

Right?

Ah, crap. I'm in trouble, aren't I?

Amazing what some trick lighting can do, right? No Photoshop here, folks!

Swift's Space Travel Guide (Howard Kaneff/Swift, 1958)

Everyone knows that traveling into space is a piece of cake. But getting where you need to go? That's the tough part! Unless, of course, you've got this handy Space Travel Guide.

With a turn of the wheel, it tells you everything you need to know about the planets in our solar system: The astronomical sign, the maximum surface temperature, the distance from the Earth at its closest approach, and the period of revolution around the sun. Yep, computers are for punks!

The card also points out that "The Sun has a diameter of 864,000 miles. The average distance from Earth is about 93,000,000 miles. The average surface temperature has been computed to be about 10,000 (degrees) Fahrenheit. The light from the Sun reaches the Earth in 498.6 seconds or slightly more than eight minutes."

Neat!

The back of the card provides even more useful information, with a diagram illustrating the size of each planetary body relative to Earth as well as the mean diameter in miles.

And in case you're feeling a little peckish from your interstellar wanderings, there's a handy advertisement for Swift's Premium Flavor-Tite Dried Beef! As it says, "Out of this world recipes on the back of every package. Get into Space Orbit with.... Satellite Surprize, Interplanetary Delight, Supersonic Sandwiches or Space Snacks." And yes, they spell it "surprize" because that's how things are spelled in The Future!

All in all, this is a great little premium from a time when kids still considered science and space exploration cool. Yeah, it's educational -- but it's also the type of thing that a young Flash Gordon or Buck Rogers or Tom Corbett would drop in his pack, along with his Space Phones and ray gun, before running out to play with his friends. Good stuff, right? Right.

Space Rocket Whistle Mug (Unknown, 1950s)

Space is dark, space is cold, space is lonely. Nothing helps pass the time on patrol like a nice, steaming cup of Joe. Keep your ray guns and Space-O-Phones. Times like these, you need a space mug!

The graphics set the mood, of course, with an astronaut floating above an old-school space station and, in the distance, the planet Earth. Flip the mug around and you get another shot of the home world.

But what really designates this mug as a device from some long, lost future-that-never-came-to-be is the amazing, rocket-shaped whistle! Is it a tool for signaling the waitress at an all night, orbital diner? Is it pitched at just the right frequency to scare off an angry Neptunian? I don't know, and I don't care! It's great!

I like that there's a spot on the bottom of the mug to write your name. And yes, I've been tempted to put mine there... But the collector in me keeps twitching at the idea of marking it up. I'm not too much of a freak about sealing up my toys and collectibles in airtight containers, but even I draw the line at drawing a line on my stuff. For now, anyway... The five-year-old in me might win out one of these days!

The mug was made in Japan, but beyond that, I don't know anything about it. Manufacturer? No clue. Year? Nope. Even the name remains steeped in mystery -- I decided to call it "Space Rocket Whistle Mug," but for all I know, the company that produced it called it something simple like... well... mug. If anyone knows anything about this piece, please drop me a line. I'd love to learn more about it.

Space-Phones (Selcol, 1950s)

A ray gun's all well and good... until you're out of ammo and need to call for back up. That's when a good set of space-phones can save the day!

This British set was made by Selcol and uses the then-cutting-edge "can-and-string" toy technology to create a communicator perfectly suited for conversations between galaxies. If, of course, those two galaxies are approximately three feet away.

The toys do go a bit beyond the typical space walkie talkies of the day by including a little whistle above the communication grill. It's a nice little touch that adds some play value.

I love the box art, which, despite limiting itself to only three colors, delivers a lot of bang. Keen eyed observers will notice that it pulls heavily from the artwork of Britain's greatest space hero, Dan Dare. In fact, for all intents and purposes, that is Colonel Dare on the flip-up display. He's only missing those weird, kinked eye brows -- probably so Eagle Publishing wouldn't sue Selcol out of existence.

While this isn't the rarest set of walkie talkies, it's definitely not common either. I spent a while looking for a pair in nice condition, with a clean box and both easily broken antennas in place. The hunt was worth it, though -- it's a great toy!

Space Commander Walkie Talkies (Remco, 1953)

Along with ray guns and robots, I also collect vintage space walkie talkies. The Space Commander model is one of my favorite sets.

Like most toy walkie talkies, these used the old "can-and-string" technology -- tie a line between the two toys, pull it tight, and then marvel as your voice is transmitted to your friend on the other side of the room. Never mind that, with only about 15 feet between separating the two of you, your voice probably carried pretty clearly anyway. No, these toys were cool, high-tech gadgets and nothing could take away the fun of using them. 

Like so many Remco toys, the Space Commander Walkie Talkies came in a beautiful display box decorated with simple, but fun, three-color artwork. It also included a handy spool for the bright red string so you weren't left untangling the cord every time you wanted to use the toy. (Seriously -- how can you warn Earth about the incoming invasion if you're stuck picking knots out of your communication equipment?)

I've always liked these toys. They've got a great, spacey look to them, and really capture the mid-century futurism I love so much. And so many of them come in display boxes -- not just the Remco models -- that they end up looking fantastic on my shelves. Space walkie talkies aren't as big a collectible as ray guns or robots, but to me, that's part of their appeal -- I can build a complete collection without spending too much money, and I end up with a bunch of toys that aren't overly familiar to everyone else. 

I snagged this dead-mint set (notice that the string still has the original tape keeping it wound around the spool) during an annual space-toy collector convention in Adamstown, PA. I'd pretty much given up hope of finding anything good that weekend when I stumbled on these beauties at a giant antique mall. The dealer wanted about 25% more than I was willing to pay, but I managed to talk him down. Sweet. 

Okay, okay, that's not the most exciting story in the world. Not every purchase involves fighting off ninja or learning some important lesson about life. I'm just glad I got the toy!

Planet Jet Water Pistol & Space Scout Helmet (Renwal / 1954 / U.S. / 4 x 6 inches)

I remember it well: My birthday. A sushi restaurant in the East Village. Two good friends, at the time dating but now married. A present, flat, rectangular, wrapped. A book, clearly. But what kind of book? My friends knew me well, but even so, it could have been a book about anything. I rushed to open it.

Ray Gun, by some guy named Eugene Metcalf. An old looking tin ray gun on the cover. I flipped through a few pages, noting the brightly colored plastic toys. I closed the book, gave my friends a smile, thanked them for such a cool present. We all went back to our sushi.

Only... I didn't. Not really. I was still wandering between the covers of the book, crawling over each ring, curve, fin, and embossed planet. Those photos, only briefly glanced at, had somehow imprinted themselves upon my brain. Clearly my friends really did know me well, better in fact than I knew myself. Up until that moment, I didn't realize that I was a ray gun collector. But oh was I!

Ray Gun has pages and pages of beautiful space guns, but most of them pale next to one of my all-time favorite toys: Renwal's Planet Jet.

Abstract like only a space gun can possibly be, it's a miniature work of art disguised as a toy. Or maybe it's a toy elevated to the level of art.

Nope, I've got it: It's rock-solid, incontrovertible proof that toys are art.

My favorite part of the Planet Jet is the rocket on its spine, which zips forward with every pull of the trigger. The gun fires water, which is stored in the bulbous barrel. It also makes a clicking noise, because clicking noises are cool. Don't ask me why, but they are.

So what's up with the helmet? C'mon, I hear you asking about it. It's a strange one, right? All those open spaces and ribs and that funky antenna. It's called the Space Scout helmet, and while it wasn't specifically packaged with the Planet Jet, the two share a color scheme that pretty much demands that they be displayed together. Renwal's designers, renowned for their skills, were clearly firing on all cylinders when they came up with these two toys.

Both the Space Scout helmet and the Planet Jet came in a few different color variations. The helmet's are pretty straight forward -- both versions feature a yellow body, but the "ear muff" and antenna colors are reversed. Neither is more common than the other; I owned both at one point, but sold one of them off to a good friend. I kept this one because it more closely matches the Planet Jet's color scheme.

The gun came in three different variations: The yellow is most common, followed by a blue one with a yellow tip and trigger, and a red rocket; and a red one with a blue tip and trigger, and a yellow rocket. I'm honestly not certain which is rarer, the blue or the red. I've seen both on eBay, I've seen a couple of each in people's collections. Suffice it to say, they're both extremely difficult to find.

The Planet Jet was the first high-end gun to enter my collection. I've actually owned two of them: The first was missing the little fins coming off the front part of the barrel. It's a common flaw in the toy, and doesn't really take away from its appearance. Considering how scarce a gun it is, many collectors -- myself included -- don't worry too much about it. Besides, that particular gun was featured in the fantastic book Ray Gun!, which is just the kind of provenance I like.

Until, of course, a mint one comes along. Which, in my case, is exactly what happened. The same ray-gun dealer (who happens to be a good friend of mine) snagged the one photographed for this blog and offered it to me. I jumped at the opportunity. To help pay for it, I sold my first one to yet another good friend (who has since turned into one hell of a ray-gun collector himself).

The Planet Jet also stars in one of the most frustrating experiences I've had as a collector. A blue one appeared on eBay with its very rare -- we're talking only two or three known to exist -- display card. The seller was the retail wing of a very prominent auction house, so even though the photos only showed one side of the gun, I wasn't too worried. The description was very forthright in mentioning two missing fins (see?) and some scrapes and scuffs, so I figured I knew exactly what I'd be getting if I won the toy. I placed a bid and ended up taking it for just under what the gun would be worth by itself. Talk about a major victory!

Then the gun arrived. Seems I should have asked for a couple extra photos; the other side of the Planet Jet looked like a nail had been driven through the plastic! This was no small scratch, and I was amazed that such a reputable auction house would neglect to mention it in the description. Still, I wasn't feeling too bad because I had that rare card, which was worth more than the gun. For the money, I was still way ahead of the game.

Except, of course, the card was a reproduction. A bad one. I won't go into the hows and whys of identifying reproduction packaging, but trust me, a blind man could have picked this out.

Needless to say, I was livid. I called up the auction house, explained the situation to them, and was relieved when they immediately offered a full refund. But to this day, I'm staggered that they made such a mistake in the first place. (It's interesting to note that, a week or two after I returned the toy, it popped up on eBay again. This time, both sides were photographed. The description of the card, however, only included a small amendment: "It's possible that the card is a reproduction." Possible?)

Anyway, ain't none of us immune to making mistakes in this hobby. Mine was not asking for more photos. Live, learn, move on to the next toy. But at the same time, don't forget to enjoy the ones you've already got!

Tom Corbett, Space Cadet View-Master Set (Sawyer, 1954)

Everyone's talking about 3-D movies. Bah! For nearly seven decades, View-Master was bringing people a world of eye-poppingly, jaw-droppingly, brain-tweakingly awesome 3-D images. And they delivered this marvel on appropriately futuristic discs. There were travel reels, nature reels, science reels, entertainment reels -- over the years, View-Master has produced thousands of them. 

But as good as they all were -- and some of them were absolutely fantastic -- one set stood tall above all the rest: Tom Corbett, Space Cadet.

Sawyer outdid itself in bringing to life Tom Corbett and his friends. The model makers created flying rockets, spacemen with bubble helmets, foreboding planets, secret bases -- everything a kid could want from his science fiction adventures. The set came with three reels -- "The Moon Pyramid," "The Red Planet," and "The Mystery of the Asteroids" -- and an extensive booklet.

While the reels will work in any View-Master viewer, there's something particularly satisfying about clicking through the Tom Corbett set using a vintage Model C, which was in production from 1950 through 1955. It's not quite a time machine, but it's close. 

I'm constantly going back to look at these reels; I just never get enough of them. They're so transportive, so immersive -- there are times when I feel like I can reach out and shake Tom's hand. When was the last time a bunch of static images were so much fun?