A Horse in Search of a Fire Engine

Last year, I evaluated a collection of antique cast iron toys for a friend who was ready to start selling. She had a lot of fire engines, ranging from some very beautiful 1800s era horse drawn engines all the way to chubby, cheery red 1950s trucks.

One of my favorite items in her collection was just a piece left over from a long-gone larger set, and I was able to rescue it and bring it home. This cast iron horse came from a very large fire engine: the horse itself is 7 inches long. The engine would have been an expensive one back in the 1870s-80s, and was probably pulled by two or three of these horses. This one, while its original paint is worn, is still quite beautiful; the complete toy must have been just absolutely gorgeous.

A really clever feature is visible if you look closely at the wheel below the horse's front legs: the axle is offset, not centered. When you roll the horse along a flat surface, this offset axle makes him move up and down, imitating the motion of a real galloping horse.

In this closeup of his head, you can see the lovely patina the original paint has acquired. All the details of the harness and face were handpainted. 

I wonder where this toy horse has been, and what he's seen, in his 140 years. I'm happy he was saved from the scrap heap, that fate of most broken things. He's now comfortably enjoying his well-earned retirement at Tracy's Home for Orphaned Toys.

Attic Find: Vintage Barclay Cowboy & Indian Figures

Every collector dreams about making a great "attic find": discovering a wonderful antique preserved in an attic, packed away and forgotten for decades. Finding such an item can feel like finding buried treasure, and not just because of the piece's monetary value. Particularly with old toys, it can be a warmly rewarding experience to "rescue" a forgotten item from a dim and dusty attic existence. (If you've seen the final Toy Story film, you'll know what a terrible fate attic banishment is for a toy.)

Every so often a news story will feature such a find, like a rare Steiff teddy bear or a valuable painting by a famous artist, discovered by a young couple in the eaves of their newly-purchased fixer-upper. As enthralling as these stories are, such finds are rarer than one might suppose.

I've only had two attic finds so far in my two decades of collecting. Both were low in monetary value, but rich with history and play wear. My favorite is shown below: two late 1940s/early 1950s lead western figures, just 2 3/4 inches tall, made by the Barclay Company.

This dime store duo have endured much play, and were clearly loved by their original owner. Somehow, though, they got left behind when he grew up...the two were discovered under a cracked floorboard in the attic of an abandoned farmhouse. As I hold them now, I wonder: where did they come from? how did they end up under the attic floorboards? who first played with these? what happened to him? does he wonder today where his little cowboy and Indian are? Just a week after we rescued them, the abandoned house was torn down. It was a narrow escape for these two classic American toys.

Long-Lost Toys of Christmases Past

Christmas is a time when I reminisce about my childhood holidays and the gifts that I received way back then. While I still have many of my original toys, even more are now long-gone, passed on to younger relatives or sold by my little brothers in yard sales for candy money when I was away at college. (With therapy, we've finally managed to move beyond this issue.)

While talking to my friend Ron (born in 1936, pictured at right) about long-lost favorite toys, he told me about his greatest lost-toy regret: an entire shoebox filled to the brim with vintage radio show premiums. These included multiples of the Lone Ranger Six Gun Ring, Sky King toys, Captain Midnight badges, and his greatest treasure, the Green Hornet Glow in the Dark Secret Compartment Ring, for which, he says, "I had to eat this horrible, nasty cereal I had begged for so I could get the ring, and my mother wouldn't let me order it until I finished the whole package. That really sucked, let me tell you."

As he listed the contents of his shoebox, I began mentally adding up the current selling prices of these items. I wondered, "should I tell him? nooo...I don't think so...it's probably better that he doesn't know..." Finally, he finished recounting the various pieces he had owned, and then asked me the question I was dreading: "how much do you think they'd be worth now?" I told him. When he finished shouting and cursing, I asked him what happened to the box full of toys.

Ron grew up in Detroit in the late 1930s and 40s, and lived in a 4-family flat. One day a new family moved in, with a little boy named Gordie. Apparently, Gordie's family lived in even more dire financial circumstances than their neighbors. So Ron, in a remarkably generous moment, gave Gordie his entire shoebox of premiums. Lest you think this story ends with a Christmasy-sweet sentiment, here is Ron's final comment on the matter: "That little bastard Gordie...hmmm....I wonder if I could track him down and get it back..."

On a more pleasant note, Ron recently rediscovered his childhood diary. After some searching, he found this entry, penned in his 10th year: "Hooray - I got my Green Hornet ring today. And yes, it really does glow in the dark, and it really does have a secret compartment, and, it really does look like real gold!"

The ring pictured above is the most affordable (ha!) Green Hornet ring I've been able to find so far, priced at $450. If you, too, are looking for a long-lost Green Hornet Glow in the Dark Secret Compartment Ring, it's currently available online at: www.rubylane.com/shops/thepinkflamingo/item/PNKCOL107