tiltjlp
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For roughly 30 years, starting in the mid 1970s, I wrote and submitted many nostalgia articles, and had a fairly nice number of them published. They’re about my growing up experiences from the late 1940s through the mid 1970s, covering my earliest memories up till my early 20s.
I’ve posted some of my articles on a few other forums, with good results. I hear a lot of comments about the common experience, and that my articles remind folks of their our lives, and special times and special people. Since I would just be copying them from my hard drive I thought I’d see if enough of you are interested.
Please vote, since why waste the time and effort if nobody wants to read them. Below is one of the articles, to give you an idea of my work.
Box Top Freebies, 50s Style
Growing up in the early '50s, there were fewer cereal choices than there are today. Since prepackaged cereal was still a new product category, each brand tried to find ways to build loyalty for their flakes, biscuits, or nuggets. The most popular way of doing this was to offer premiums in trade for their box tops.
Usually, for only one or two box tops, and maybe a thin dime, a youngster could send for a gadget of some sort by return mail. Among the freebies my brother and I garnered in exchange for our box tops were Captain Video Decoder Rings, assorted comic books featuring The Lone Ranger, The Cisco Kid, and Roy Rogers, and genuine imitation leather billfolds. A pair of plastic Ovaltine drinking mugs might have been the most useful premiums we ever got. His was blue, and mine was yellow.
Over the years, up until the mid 70s, box tops offered delights for youngsters, much like modern day fast food restaurants do today. I remember sending away for a series of magic tricks. I don’t recall if I mastered any of the tricks, but the thrill of getting something for nothing kept us pestering our parents to buy whatever cereal offered the niftiest gizmos.
Not all of our treasures came from mailing in box tops, many came from offers on the inside covers of comic books. While we sent away for key chains, streamers for our bicycle handlebar grips, and secret code wheels from comic books, quite often we’d end up disappointed. The sea horse eggs I sent for never grew into sea horses, and the magic rocks that were supposed to turn into a rainbow of colors when put in water only made a mess.
Although we often ended up wasting our allowances on gimmicks or junk, somehow we never stopped hoping for that really wonderful freebie that would make our friends envious. But probably the best premiums of all came packed inside Cracker Jack, just like today. While most of today’s Prizes Inside are simply paper or cardboard, back when I was a boy, they were plastic or pressed tin. I wonder if modern day youngsters find the toys inside as much fun as I did.
I remember acquiring an orchestra of musical toys from box tops and even comic book coupons. Besides an Oscar Mayer Wienermobile Whistle, I also had a slide whistle, a kazoo, a small tin disc that you put in your mouth and could hum songs with, and a tiny, five hole harmonica. But probably the very best musical toy of all was the ocarina I once ordered from a Boy’s Life magazine. Also called a Sweet Potato, it was a heavy plastic version of a real musical instrument, with finger holes and a mouth piece. It came with an instructional booklet, complete with a dozen songs. In time I even learned to play a few of them.
Some of the greatest promotional premiums didn’t even require box tops or coupons from comic books. Kahn’s Meats, a local Cincinnati company, used to place trading cards of the Redlegs baseball players in with their hot dogs. You’d collect all the players cards during the summer, and they all smelled wonderful. And most every neighborhood shop gave away token freebies, in the hope of getting your repeat business. Six-bottle cartons of soda pop nearly always came with some kind of freebie attached. Often it was a small comic book with a story tied to whatever brand of pop you had bought, or coupons you could collect and redeem for all sorts of toys. One summer Barq’s offered a real Duncan yoyo for three coupons and a dime.
In time, possible due to higher handling and postage costs, box tops lost their mystic status. From the late 50s on, most cereal companies, as well as many other product manufacturers, began to place premiums and token gifts inside their packages. A laundry powder company included wash cloths and dish towels with their various sized boxes, recouping the cost of the free gift with the savings from providing less soap powder. One tea bag brand included plaster or bisque-like figurines in their cartons.
When the cereal companies first began placing small toys prizes inside their boxes, boys and girls often poured out the cereal onto the kitchen table, in search of the free surprise. Although the cheap plastic doodads probably settled to the bottom of the box during shipping, most mothers figured it was a plot to make the cereal go stale sooner, and sell more corn flakes.
Of course not all box top offers were box tops. Those Ovaltine mugs arrived after we had sent in some inner seals from their jar tops. Bread companies would often insert coupons or small booklets inside their packages. And several brands of candy bars and bubble gum added special offers under the colorful wrappers. Something for nothing, or nearly so, has always been a wonderful gimmack.
Art’s Candy Store would give you a sheet of tattoos with every sack of penny candy. The corner service station, besides filling the tank and washing the windshield, often gave away balloons or decorative drinking glasses. And our local bakery always offered us a free cookie, and sometimes less than perfect brownies, just for the asking. And when you bought a bag of a dozen doughnuts, somehow they always added one or two extra.
With hand-held video games and computers, it’s hard to imagine a youngster of today feeling the same thrill I did nearly fifty years ago, for just a pittance. I would imagine that a boy or girl today enjoys getting mail addressed to them, just like I did. And if that mail includes some sort of toy, the magic is all that more special. I’d like to think that kids today feel that special sort of magic in their hearts that was available to all of us all those many years ago, when the Good Old Days were still new.
I’ve posted some of my articles on a few other forums, with good results. I hear a lot of comments about the common experience, and that my articles remind folks of their our lives, and special times and special people. Since I would just be copying them from my hard drive I thought I’d see if enough of you are interested.
Please vote, since why waste the time and effort if nobody wants to read them. Below is one of the articles, to give you an idea of my work.
Box Top Freebies, 50s Style
Growing up in the early '50s, there were fewer cereal choices than there are today. Since prepackaged cereal was still a new product category, each brand tried to find ways to build loyalty for their flakes, biscuits, or nuggets. The most popular way of doing this was to offer premiums in trade for their box tops.
Usually, for only one or two box tops, and maybe a thin dime, a youngster could send for a gadget of some sort by return mail. Among the freebies my brother and I garnered in exchange for our box tops were Captain Video Decoder Rings, assorted comic books featuring The Lone Ranger, The Cisco Kid, and Roy Rogers, and genuine imitation leather billfolds. A pair of plastic Ovaltine drinking mugs might have been the most useful premiums we ever got. His was blue, and mine was yellow.
Over the years, up until the mid 70s, box tops offered delights for youngsters, much like modern day fast food restaurants do today. I remember sending away for a series of magic tricks. I don’t recall if I mastered any of the tricks, but the thrill of getting something for nothing kept us pestering our parents to buy whatever cereal offered the niftiest gizmos.
Not all of our treasures came from mailing in box tops, many came from offers on the inside covers of comic books. While we sent away for key chains, streamers for our bicycle handlebar grips, and secret code wheels from comic books, quite often we’d end up disappointed. The sea horse eggs I sent for never grew into sea horses, and the magic rocks that were supposed to turn into a rainbow of colors when put in water only made a mess.
Although we often ended up wasting our allowances on gimmicks or junk, somehow we never stopped hoping for that really wonderful freebie that would make our friends envious. But probably the best premiums of all came packed inside Cracker Jack, just like today. While most of today’s Prizes Inside are simply paper or cardboard, back when I was a boy, they were plastic or pressed tin. I wonder if modern day youngsters find the toys inside as much fun as I did.
I remember acquiring an orchestra of musical toys from box tops and even comic book coupons. Besides an Oscar Mayer Wienermobile Whistle, I also had a slide whistle, a kazoo, a small tin disc that you put in your mouth and could hum songs with, and a tiny, five hole harmonica. But probably the very best musical toy of all was the ocarina I once ordered from a Boy’s Life magazine. Also called a Sweet Potato, it was a heavy plastic version of a real musical instrument, with finger holes and a mouth piece. It came with an instructional booklet, complete with a dozen songs. In time I even learned to play a few of them.
Some of the greatest promotional premiums didn’t even require box tops or coupons from comic books. Kahn’s Meats, a local Cincinnati company, used to place trading cards of the Redlegs baseball players in with their hot dogs. You’d collect all the players cards during the summer, and they all smelled wonderful. And most every neighborhood shop gave away token freebies, in the hope of getting your repeat business. Six-bottle cartons of soda pop nearly always came with some kind of freebie attached. Often it was a small comic book with a story tied to whatever brand of pop you had bought, or coupons you could collect and redeem for all sorts of toys. One summer Barq’s offered a real Duncan yoyo for three coupons and a dime.
In time, possible due to higher handling and postage costs, box tops lost their mystic status. From the late 50s on, most cereal companies, as well as many other product manufacturers, began to place premiums and token gifts inside their packages. A laundry powder company included wash cloths and dish towels with their various sized boxes, recouping the cost of the free gift with the savings from providing less soap powder. One tea bag brand included plaster or bisque-like figurines in their cartons.
When the cereal companies first began placing small toys prizes inside their boxes, boys and girls often poured out the cereal onto the kitchen table, in search of the free surprise. Although the cheap plastic doodads probably settled to the bottom of the box during shipping, most mothers figured it was a plot to make the cereal go stale sooner, and sell more corn flakes.
Of course not all box top offers were box tops. Those Ovaltine mugs arrived after we had sent in some inner seals from their jar tops. Bread companies would often insert coupons or small booklets inside their packages. And several brands of candy bars and bubble gum added special offers under the colorful wrappers. Something for nothing, or nearly so, has always been a wonderful gimmack.
Art’s Candy Store would give you a sheet of tattoos with every sack of penny candy. The corner service station, besides filling the tank and washing the windshield, often gave away balloons or decorative drinking glasses. And our local bakery always offered us a free cookie, and sometimes less than perfect brownies, just for the asking. And when you bought a bag of a dozen doughnuts, somehow they always added one or two extra.
With hand-held video games and computers, it’s hard to imagine a youngster of today feeling the same thrill I did nearly fifty years ago, for just a pittance. I would imagine that a boy or girl today enjoys getting mail addressed to them, just like I did. And if that mail includes some sort of toy, the magic is all that more special. I’d like to think that kids today feel that special sort of magic in their hearts that was available to all of us all those many years ago, when the Good Old Days were still new.
